


Diamond

by MissWia



Series: 366 Days of Writing [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Gender Fluid Character(s), Incest, Light Erotica, M/M, Platonic Relationships, Underage - Freeform, dark themes, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 16:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 30
Words: 28,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6431383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWia/pseuds/MissWia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their stories had beginnings and they had ends. Some were happy, some were not. All were precious.</p><p>Month Four of my 366 Days of Writing Series. Tags will be added as needed. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sigrid/Fili

Just when her life seemed to finally be falling into place, the universe felt the need to throw this monkey wrench into her path. The tiny, innocuous stick stared up at her, the bright pink strip in the center like a glaring beacon that signaled rough times ahead for her. Positive. She was pregnant, and the father was a no-good deadbeat she was better off without.

“Why me,” Sigrid whined, head collapsing in her arms. She was sitting on the floor of her bathroom, the toilet acting as her crutch as she wallowed in her despair. All she wanted was to stay in the little room for the rest of her life, because somehow stepping outside would make this far more real than it already is. In here she was safe and could ignore her little problem for just a little bit longer. Her phone rang, crushing that dream at once.

She picked up the cellphone and looked at the screen. Fili was calling. Her misery deepened. Wonderful, kind Fili. A man she had just met but was already falling deeply in love with. He had come into her life as such a perfect time, shortly after her deadbeat ex left her life for good. He was charming, polite, but also cheeky and fun, making her laugh when all she wanted to do was mope. Now he would leave her, because let’s be honest, who would want to stick around with a woman who was pregnant with some other man’s child?

The phone kept ringing and she knew she had to answer it. After all, they had a date later today. She hit the little green button and accepted the call.

“Hey, Fili!”

Her voice sounded far too chipper for her current mood. Luckily Fili didn’t notice anything strange.

“Hey, gorgeous. Just calling to confirm our date this afternoon,” he replied, sounding so adorably eager.

A part of her wanted to cancel, to make excuses again and again until he took the hint and walked away without her having to face him. But he didn’t deserve it. Not Fili.

“Yup! I have my outfit picked out and ready,” she said instead, trying to keep her voice steady and happy.

“Great! I hope you like Italian. I know the owner of this great little café on Shire and Blue Mountain street. His garlic bread is to die for!”

“I love Italian. We’ll meet there at 6?”

“Sounds like a plan. Until then, gorgeous.”

“Bye, Fili.”

The call ended and Sigrid was once again alone in the bathroom. She glanced at the little stick one more time. Why couldn’t it have been negative?

With a sigh she tossed it into the trash and got off the floor. She had a date to get ready for.

XxxXxxX

Six o’clock rolled around too quickly, in her own opinion, and she was waiting at the address Fili texted to her in her favorite green dress and flats. It was the dress that always gave her confidence when she wore it, and right now she needed some desperately.

However, the sight of Fili walked up the road with a broad grin on his face had her losing the little courage her dress gave her. She was about to duck into the alley and hide but he saw her before she had the chance.

“Wow! You look amazing,” the man complimented, looking at her up and down in a way that was both polite and appreciative but not at all creepy. Few men could pull such a look off.

“Thank you,” she shyly replied, staring down at her feet.

“Come on. I called ahead and Bombur saved us his best table.”

He opened the restaurant door for her and carefully shepherded her inside. There was no backing out now. A large and jovial man with a fantastically red beard greeted them, slapping Fili on the back with a booming laugh and shaking her hand politely, before leading them to their table. It was small and out of the way from the rest of the restaurant, giving them some privacy.

“Garlic bread is fresh out of the oven, so I’ll go fetch you all a basket. Let me know when you’re ready to order,” he said with a merry smile before walking off and leaving the two alone. Sigrid stared at her lap, fingers twisting around each other. Fili, noticing her unusual shyness, took the lead.

“It’s good to see you again.”

That had her peeking up and smiling softly.

“Yeah. It’s good to see you, too.”

Fili smiled at her, perfectly at ease and not at all put off by her mood.

“How has your week been?”

Sigrid bit her lip. Should she answer honestly and get this whole thing over with? Or should she wait until he had something to drink, like wine or something stronger? She decided to go with the former. Her da always taught her to face things head on and get them over with quickly. Rip off the Band-Aid, so to speak.

“Honestly, not so great.”

Her tone was heavy and somber and Fili’s mood shifted at once. His smile dropped slightly and his brows furrowed in concern.

“Are you alright?”

Tears flooded her eyes at the simple sentence. Of course that would be Fili’s first response. Not some vaguely sympathetic noise before brushing past her answer entirely, but rather a genuinely concerned question. That was just the kind of man he was.

Taking a deep breath, she began to explain.

“You remember me telling you about my ex? And what a piece of work he is?”

The blond nodded, so she continued.

“I had only left him not even a month before I met you. Though we hadn’t been together long it was draining part of my life, one I was happy to finally be over with.”

At some point her hands had migrated onto the table, though they still twisted around each other. Fili reached out and laid a strong, comforting hand across them. She took strength from the action, letting his touch ground and relax her.

“Fili,” she said, voice soft and scared. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence fell between them, Sigrid staring at their entwined hands. She couldn’t bare looking up at him. It lasted for what felt like eternity before Sigrid broke it, needing to say something.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, but it wouldn’t be fair to keep this from you. If you want to leave now and just remain friends, I understand. If you want to leave and never see me again, I understand that as well. I don’t expect anything from you.”

His hand left hers and she felt her heart break in her chest. But instead of retreating across the table it instead migrated up, grabbing her chin gently and tilting her face so that she was looking at him. Fili was watching her with such a tender look that for a moment she forgot to breath.

“Is there an option where I can stay by your side? Because I would like to take that one.”

It was a response she hated dared to hope for.

“Really,” she asked in disbelief. Fili smiled gently at her, his thumb gently caressing her cheek.

“Really. I like you, Sigrid Bowman, and if it’s not too forward, I think I’m falling in love with you. I would like to keep going if it’s alright by you.”

The tears that were in her eyes started to fall, though they were now of relief and happiness.

“I would like that very much,” she replied, hiccuping slightly.

Fili chuckled softly and handed her a cloth napkin to dry her eyes with. It was at this time that Bombur arrived, a fresh basket of garlic bread in his hands.

He raised his eyebrows at Sigrid’s tears, but politely ignored it.

“Can I start you two off with some wine?”

Fili shook his head.

“Not tonight. How about some tea though? Decaf.”

Sigrid smiled at his answer. She reached up to take the hand at her cheek and bringing it down to the table, letting her fingers entwine with his. They didn’t let go for the whole night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, Fili! He's such a good guy. And don't worry about Sigrid's ex. It's no one you know. ;)
> 
> Have any thoughts for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	2. Bofur/Dwalin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He forgot what it was like to be happy. War did that to you. Dwalin was here to remind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, some Bofur/Dwalin. This pairing was a challenge to write and my requester has been so patient with me. After multiple story changes, rewrites, and more rewrites I got this. I hope you like it!

Bofur had never been asked to describe hell on earth, but if he had he knew exactly where that would be. In the muddy trenches of a battlefield. The cold mixed with the muck and blood, seeping into your bones like a bad memory. It consumed you, until all you knew was life in the mud. You couldn't remember what sound the trees made in a breeze or recall the color yellow, bright and sunny. You couldn't picture the future as something cheerful and positive, only the misery of now.

As a boy he had never once made believe he went to war. It was a game that seemed to be favored among the other boys his age, but not Bofur. He never saw the appeal to such violence, instead spending his time pretending he was a great explorer who outwitted dragons and found mysterious lost kingdoms. But never a soldier.

He never lost that pacifist mind set, even as an adult. Never once did he wonder at glory in battle and the honor of war. When war came though, he, like every other eligible person in the country, had no choice. He didn't have to like war, but he did have to fight.

"I don't remember the last time I had a dry sock," Dwalin grumbled beside him, a stump of a cigarette hanging from his mouth as he tried to wring the water from his sock, a task done in vein. They had been sitting in water for weeks now and none of them had dry clothing. A few unlucky sods were already on their way to losing feet from the dampness, trench foot robbing them of their limbs.

"I don't remember the last time it was dry. Period," he glumly replied. He didn't remember pleasant things anymore. His mind used to be full of them. Jokes, funny stories, happy memories, anything and everything that would make him smile. Not now thought. They had been washed away with the gore.

The other man shrugged, stuffing his wet foot back into his boot and lacing it up tightly.

"The Captain got some newspaper today. Said he would let me have the classified to stuff my shoes with when he was done."

Bofur made a noncommittal grunt, though he wasn't really listening. Instead he was waiting for the next whistle that indicated a mortar attack. Dwalin ignored him and kept talking.

"I think the Captain has gotten himself a soft spot for that little Private the General assigned us. Baggins or something. Thorin doesn't stand a chance!"

The sound of laughter had him startling out of his tense vigil. He looked at his partner incredulously. How could he laugh at a time like this? With so much darkness around them, how could he take the time to mock and tease? He asked him as much.

Dwalin shrugged.

"Because of the shadow. If I don't laugh now, I may never get the chance again. I'm taking my happiness while I can, even if it's just a little thing."

Bofur couldn't fault his logic, in fact he found himself admiring it. He just couldn't find it in him to follow it.

"I don't remember being happy," he confessed, staring down at the puddle at his feet. The water was brown and oily, though he doubted it was just from gun ammunition. He didn't like thinking about it too much.

"I find that hard to believe. In basic you were such a cheery fellow, even when we were doing drills in 100 degree heat in full gear. You must have some happy memories left."

Bofur shook his head.

"Not anymore. This place has tainted them. When I think of my twelfth birthday, when I got my first whittling kit, all I can think of instead is that none of the kids I invited showed up for my party. Or when I remember a Christmas morning, instead of the joy that came from opening presents with my brother and parents I remember that my cousin Bifur spent many Christmases in an assisted living home, all alone. There are no happy memories left."

He felt his heart crumbling into even tinier pieces. He wanted so badly to be happy again, if only for a moment, but he couldn't. There was no happiness here.

"What about a lover? Surely you have happy memories of them," Dwalin wondered.

Bofur flushed in embarrassment. That was just a sad thought on its own and had never been happy.

"I never had a lover," he admitted quietly, "I've never even been kissed."

"Never?!"

Dwalin's shocked exclamation had his embarrassment heightening.

"I thought I had time," he defended himself. "I'm still young, you know. Not even 22!"

"Surely there has been someone?"

Bofur thought about it. There had been, once. Before this stupid war hit he was sure it would stick. But they both got their orders and were shipped to opposite sides of the world. Last Bofur heard he was being shot at in the tropics, but that was a long time ago.

"Once. Not anymore though. He may be dead, for all I know."

Dwalin made grunted in acknowledgment. Death was such a casual conversation now and they were now almost numb to it all.

Silence fell between them. Not even crickets sang.

"Bofur," Dwalin spoke to get the man's attention.

He looked up only to feel his eyes widen in surprise as dry, rough lips pressed gently against his own. For a moment he sat there, frozen, but at the gentle encouragement of Dwalin he soon responded to the kiss. It was quick and chaste, but it was the greatest feeling Bofur had felt in a long while. When they parted he found himself missing it.

"Why," he asked, hand coming up to brush at his tingling mouth.

Dwalin gave him a small smile.

"Because I take my happiness when I can. Kissing you made me happy and I hope it made you happy, too. You deserve it."

Bofur was surprised at the soft laugh that escaped him. Like many things, he had forgotten what it sounded like.

"Yeah," he replied, smiling softly. "It did make me happy."

They sat close to each other for the rest of the night. And through the haze of smoke from gunfire and battle, Bofur swore he could see the stars again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? :)
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	3. Fili/Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The club pulsed with wild music, sending the patron into a frenzy of passion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fili/Kili for Sunday. Enjoy!

The club pulsed with energy, bodies grinding and moving in time. Strobe lights worked with the deep base of the DJ's song, sending the patrons into a wild frenzy of movement. Fili loved it.  
The body grinding against him was slight and clothed in a sinfully tight red dress. Long brown hair cascaded over naked shoulders and strong arms wrapped around his shoulders, nails lightly digging into his skin.  
Red lips that matched smirked deviously up at him, tempting him to take a bite. So he did.

Teeth devoured the pale neck, biting and sucking the smooth column of flesh to his hearts content. He couldn't hear the moans of pleasure he was enticing, but he felt them. The vibrations of their pleasure played nicely against his lips. His hands wandered at will, groping and pulling his willing partner closer. His leg was between theirs now and he growled with delight at the obvious arousal he felt there. Fili dipped low and gave a particularly harsh grind that had the other gasping with pleasure, loud enough for him to hear over the music.

With a self satisfied smirk he released his hold on their neck, enjoying the marks he left there under the club lights. Bright blue eyes met hooded brown ones. All it took was a single look from Fili that had the other nodding along before being dragged off the dance floor and toward the back.

The bathroom was filled with graffiti and glitter, as well as a few drunken patrons. They ignored them, however, instead taking a somewhat clean stall and sealing themselves in.

They could still hear the music, but only the deep, rhythmic base.

"God, I love you in red," Fili groaned as he saw his partner in better lightening.

Kili smirked up at him, just as devilishly as Fili had.

"I know," the man replied, tossing his hair back. "Why do you think I picked out this dress?"

Fili groaned and resumed his attack on his brother's neck. Now he could hear every little meal and moan Kili made and it only drove him madder.

In between his sloppy kisses he spoke.

"That dress. Those heels. Those red lips! You're driving me crazy, little brother. I want you. Now!"

Kili gasped at the sensation of Fili's teeth tugging sharply at his ear, before soothing the pain with gentle sucks.

"Then take it. Take me," Kili demanded, one leg wrapped around his brothers waist.

Fili didn't need to be told twice.

Their passion was hard and fast, with no sensual foreplay. They took their pleasure and relished in it, selfishly and wholly. When it was done both were a mess. Kili's lipstick was smeared across both their faces, but neither of them minded. Red was a good color of both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my! Quick and dirty. I don't think the boys mind though. ;)
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	4. Dwalin/Ori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took a lot to ruin Dwalin's good mood. Unfortunately, the drunk ramblings of a conspiracy theorist were just enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin/Ori, set in pre-Quest Ered Luin. Enjoy! :)

Dwalin enjoyed ending a hard day of work with a hot meal in his belly and a cold mug of ale in his hands. Occasionally he would have some pretty thing on his lap, but that was saved for special occasions. Tonight was no such night.

He sat at his table alone, steadily working his way through his meal while occasionally waving at a passing server to fill his mug again. His head was well on it’s way to a comforting buzz that would last him most the night and he was in a good mood. It would take a lot to break him of that.

Unfortunately, a dwarf with a loud mouth was just enough to do that.

“I’m just saying, very few actually saw the dragon. And those that did can’t give a reliable story of what it looked like.”

The loud, drunk voice carried over the pleasant atmosphere for the pub and jarred Dwalin out of his peaceful meal. Feeling his stomach turn sour, his eyes scanned the room to find the source of annoyance and stopped at a dwarf with brown hair in box braids and a beard spilt into three forks.

“Stop it, Gafon. You’re drunk,” his companions complained, waving off his words. The dwarf was no dissuaded though.

“No, listen! I was talking to some dwarf the other day whose cousin claims to be from Erebor. Now he said that the dragon was orange, like a sunset. But! My neighbor, who moved to here with the rest of those refugees, said the dragon was green with bronze wings. Orange and green are two different colors and not easily mistaken for the other. It doesn’t make sense!”

By this point others in the pub were aware of the talk this dwarf, Gafon, was making and like Dwalin, none seemed to be enjoying it.

His companions tried to quiet him down again, sensing the tension that was forming.

“Shut your mouth before we shut it for you. No one wants to hear your insane theories.”

He paid no heed and continued on.

“Everyone knows that Erebor’s old king was going mad, driven insane by the curse of his greed. He got cocky, started making enemies were he should have been making allies. It wasn’t a dragon that forced the dwarves from Erebor. It was elves and men, spurned by their former ally into violence. But no other dwarf settlement would take them in if the real story got out, so shameful! So the line of Durin made up the story of the dragon to gain sympathy. It’s all a ruse and everyone has been taken in by it. But not me!”

Dwalin felt his blood boil in rage. How dare this dwarf claim his people’s suffering was a farce? He found himself standing from his table and making his way across the room, intent on beating this imbecile within an inch, but was beaten to it by a small, red haired dwarf.

“I am from Erebor. I saw the dragon rain fire down from the skies, alongside both my brothers. You dare to tell me that what I saw was fake,” he demanded, glaring mightily at the drunk.

Gafon glared back at him, swaying on the spot.

“And what color was your dragon, runt? Red, gold, or even blue? How come there are no refugees from Dale if the stories are true? You claim that the human city was the first casualty, so why didn’t they flee west with everyone else?”

“They did flee! Most found sanctuary in Rohan or even Gondor. Few needed to travel so far from their former home because, unlike Dwarves, humans don’t need a mountain to thrive. They made their new home in the plains, on lakes, and in forests.”

Gafon scoffed.

“How convenient! Any witness to your so called ‘dragon attack’ that isn’t a dwarf is far from here, if any are still alive.”

The other dwarf rolled his eyes.

“If you want a witness, though there are hundreds readily available, I suggest you go speak with Thorin Oakenshield. Or do you doubt the word of a prince?”

Again, Gafon scoffed.

“The word of Thorin Oakenshield means nothing to me. Why would I trust a dwarf who let his grandfather go mad?”

Dwalin hadn’t seen the throw coming. No one had until it was too late and Gafon was sent flying across the pub and slammed into the far back wall. The little red haired dwarf stood there with his fists cocked and fire burning in his eyes.

“You may say the plight of my people is false and that Smaug is a fairytale to scare children, but I will not stand by why you besmirch my prince’s name! Thorin Oakenshield is the true heir of Durin and you will show him his deserved respect.”

Dwalin felt his heart thump loudly in his chest. This little red haired dwarf had defended his friend and prince with such a ferocity you would think that he served directly by his side. But Dwalin knew that he didn’t. He had never seen this dwarf before in his life, though he wished to remedy that soon.

The drunk’s friend quickly gathered him up and fled the pub before more trouble was started, leaving the red head behind. Dwalin quickly approached him.

“That is certainly I sight I won’t forget,” he commented, gesturing to the path of broken tables and chairs Gafon had plowed through. The little dwarf looked up at him with a blush.

“I should pay the barkeep for the damage done,” he shyly admitted, not at all like the defiant dwarf Dwalin had seen a moment ago.

The guard waved a dismissive hand.

“Leave it. He’s taken care of worse on his own dime before. In fact, he’ll probably insist you never pay for another drink in your life after what you did.”

The other dwarf blushed at the comment, but a stubborn look came on his face.

“It was the right thing to do. We dwarves from Erebor get enough from others as it is, with people claiming we are just beggars. To hear what that dwarf said about our tragedy being fake as well was too much. Plus, he dishonored the prince! Thorin Oakenshield has done more for his people than any other royal in history, regardless of race. He deserves all due respect.”

Dwalin felt himself smiling softly at the little dwarf’s tirade, which steadily grew more and more confident the more he spoke.

“You’re a good dwarf, lad. What’s your name?

The dwarf peeked up at him through his bangs.

“Ori,” he replied. “Son of Kori.”

Dwalin recognized the root of his name. The House of Ri was a small noble family from Erebor who, like many others, fell on harsh times after Smaug’s Desolation.

“I am Dwalin, Son of Fundin,” he greeted in return, giving him a small bow at the waist. “I thank you for defending our prince so well.”

Ori’s face was now awash with red, both at the realization of who it was he was speaking to and the show of respect he was giving.

“Y-you’re welcome.”

Dwalin grinned at him.

“Let me buy you a drink. You must be thirsty after a throw like that.”

Ori smiled softly at his offer.

“I would like that.”

Perhaps Dwalin was wrong. Maybe tonight was a special night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sat beside a conspiracy theorist in my English 111 class who wrote a paper on how the Sandy Hook shootings were a government cover up and never happened. It took every ounce of patience I had not to deck him in the face. Ori doesn't have that kind of patience. He was the inspiration of this story, though his name wasn't Gafon. Thankfully I have had no class with him since then. I don't think I would manage another semester.
> 
> Have any thoughts for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	5. Bard/Thranduil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil was pouring. Bard knew why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bard/Thranduil. Enjoy!

Thranduil was pouting, not that the average person could tell. Bard, however, was not the average person and could read his husband like a well worn book.

"Stop it," he lightly chided, nudging the blind man with his elbow. Thranduil ignored him, preferring his own dramatic mood to his husbands reasonable one.

Bard rolled his eyes fondly and let him be. He would speak when he was ready, which was usually around the time the man thought he had been forgotten.

"Why him though?"

There it was.

Bard knew the reason for Thranduil's mood, and though he didn't quite agree with it, he did understand. When your child found their soulmate parents often had a hard time letting go. When that soulmate happened to belong to a family you swore to loath for all eternity things got even more complicated. Such was the case with Sigrid and Fili, two star crossed lovers with warring guardians, or at least two warring guardians. Bard and Bilbo were quite thrilled with the match, thinking them a well suited pair. Thorin and Thranduil were not so accepting.

"No one knows how soul marks work, Thranduil, they just do. The universe obviously thinks Fili is a good match for our daughter and that's that."

Thranduil's frown deepened. His eyes were fixed ahead where the object of his disdain was currently trying to win his daughter an oversized teddy bear. The Fall Harvest was in full swing, with rides, music, and good food aplenty. It was also a traditional event for newly found Soulmates to present themselves to the community. Thus Sigrid and Fili attending alone, instead of with their families. Thranduil wasn't holding much to tradition, however, always managing to keep the young couple within sight range despite Bard's objection.

"What about Eomer? What was wrong with him? They got along well and I was sure their marks would appear on the other."

For weeks it had been like this. Thranduil would question every aspect of Sigrid's courting, demanding her mark be checked again and again just to be sure it was really the Durin boys. After all, it had happened in the past, similar looking marks being mistaken for others. Sigrid, bless her patience, took it all in stride. But despite refuting every argument Thranduil managed to produce against her soulmate the blond man continued to fight against it. Bard privately admitted it was getting old, fast.

"Eomer is a good man, but not the man for our daughter."

Thranduil scoffed, one impeccably groomed eyebrow raised in disdain.

" _But why him_?"

It was the root of all his questions, one he couldn't wrap his head around. Bard decided to take the direct approach.

"Thranduil, she loves him," he bluntly stated. "Look at how she smiles and lights up around him. I haven't seen that in her since she was a little girl. And Fili is a good man, despite your ridiculous feud with Thorin. He watches her like she alone is responsible for the sun rising each morning. You need to accept that he is who our daughter is meant to be with."

The other man relaxed ever so slightly, which Bard knew meant that he finally got his point across.

"I can't begrudge our daughter her happiness. Not for the world," he admitted wearily. Bard smiled softly, reaching out to grab his hand. He pulled it toward his lips, lightly kissing the mark along his wrist, his mark.

"You certainly took this match better than Legolas' with Gimli.

Thranduil's brow furrowed and he used his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Will none of our children find a match outside of that loathsome Durin clan?"

Bard chuckled at his dramatics. He may now accept Sigrid's love, but old habits die hard. Before his could make a comment in reply, Tilda ran up to them, waving a shiny pinwheel about.

"Papa, Da! Look what I won!"

The little girl scrambled into Bard's lap, where he made a great show of admiring her prize. From the corner of his eye he saw a contemplative look came across Thranduil's face.

"Tilda, darling," he called, catching his youngest child's attention. She turned expectantly to him.

"Yes, papa?"

"Promise me you will never fall in love with a Durin."

Tilda giggled at that, shaking her head.

"Sorry, papa. I can't. You see I'm going to marry Kili when I grow up!"

Bard barked out a laugh at that and the sour look that came onto his husbands face.

"There's always Bain," he promised, still chuckling. If anything that had Thranduil's face turning even more grim.

"Not likely. He's mooning over that red head one who is always reading. Ody or something."

"Ori? You don't say."

That was certainly news to Bard. The dark haired man smiled at the thought of all four of his children finding love. Thranduil would get over his hurt feelings soon enough. Until then, Bard would make sure to keep him in check.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil is the Queen of Drama!
> 
> Have any thoughts on future stories, pairings, AUs.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	6. OrixBain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every Mersday, at the sixth bell, Prince Bain visited the library of Erebor. Ori didn't know why, but welcomed him nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, some besotted Bain and oblivious Ori. I admit, this story had me chuckling as I wrote it. We've all been there, after all. ;)

It was a scene Ori was very familiar with by now. Every Mersday for the past four months, at the sixth bell, Ori would hear the heavy doors of the Erebor’s library swing open and the heavy, yet graceful footfalls of pad across the stone floors. He would put down his latest work and turn to greet the new arrival. Sure enough, when he turned around that Mersday afternoon, there was Bain Bardson, Crown Prince of Dale, standing amongst the dusty shelves and cluttered tables.

“Good day, Your Highness,” he would politely greet, bowing his head slightly to show the proper respect. Ori may be a hero of Erebor and part of a reestablished noble house, but Bain was a prince. A prince of Man, but a prince nonetheless. He deserved his deference.

The young prince nodded slightly in return.

“Good day, Master Ori,” he gruffly replied, his face a grim mask much like his father’s. Ori wondered if anyone in the family smiled, only to remember that where Bard, Bain, and Sigrid were masks of stone and somberness, Tilda was a wealth of sunny smiles and good cheer.

 _Must have been from her mother_ , he idly thought.

“Is there anything I can help you with today, prince?”

Bain grunted, shuffling through the scrolls on the table and picking one up seemingly at random.

“This. I came to read this.”

Ori frowned at the scroll. It was one he recognized and not one he thought would interest the young human. **Considerations for Sampling Contaminants in Agricultural Soils When Concerning Dwarvish Consumption** was hardly a page turner. In fact, the only reason it was out of it’s place on the shelves was that Bilbo was by earlier to use is as reference. Still, what was Ori to know of the reading habits of a human prince.

“Of course, sir. If you have any trouble, please call me. I’ll be glad to help,” he said instead with a soft smile. Bain grunted again and sat down at a nearby table with his scroll opened before him.

Ori could see conversation with the young prince would not be happening any time soon, so the scribe left him alone and continued his work. After an hour of silence, he looked up to check on him, only to be surprised that the human was staring back at him. Bain seemed just as startled at being caught and quickly turned his gaze back to his paper.

 _How odd_ , Ori thought. But again, what was he to know about the doings of a human? Despite living in Ered Luin for the majority of his life, which was quite near to some settlements of Man, the dwarf had little dealings with them until recently. They were still very much a mystery to him.

“How is your reading, prince? Do you perhaps need another scroll to help you with your research?”

Bain looked back up from his scroll and stared at him. For a moment Ori was shocked at how different the young man looked from just a few years before when they met. He was just a boy than, without any sign of hair on his face. Now he was well on his way to growing a respectable beard by human terms. Human development, like many of Mannish customs, startled him at times. They were like flowers, blooming within a night and then fading with the season. Brief, yet bright.

“I would benefit from your opinion on this passage, Master Ori. You are far more learned than I am,” he admitted, voice low and like thunder. Ori smiled happily. He was always happy to offer his expertise to those that asked for it.

“I am no expert on soil management, sir, but I will do my best,” he replied and came to where Bain sat. He leaned over his shoulder and read the words there. The language was complicated and long-winded, obviously the author of this particular scroll was a scholar writing for the benefit of other scholars. So despite not knowing much on the subject of soil contaminants, Ori was able to understand what was being conveyed.

“The protocols laid out seem sound enough, though this scroll is outdated. I could find you one fairly newer if that helps or perhaps arrange for you to meet with Consort Bilbo. He is a true expert in these things,” he replied, turning to smile at Bain. The young prince was sitting stiffly in his chair and Ori noticed his face had gone quite red.

“Prince! Are you alright? Have you taken ill?”

He heard of the frailty of Man and knew that illness took them quickly and without warning at times. They were not like dwarrow, who are hardy to such things. Ori would hate for the young man to take ill while in his care, however temporary. He raised a hand and placed it on the young man’s forehead, checking for fever. It seemed normal, though his face was now steadily growing redder.

“Shall I fetch a healer? Please, drink some water!”

Bain suddenly stood up, sending his chair flying back and causing Ori to jump aside. He towered over Ori by three feet, at least.

“I’ve just remembered, I’m needed elsewhere,” he gruffly replied, face stony but still red. “Excuse me, Master Ori.”

With a hasty nod of his head, he stormed out of the library and disappeared into the hall. Ori watched him leave with bewilderment.

“How odd,” he muttered to himself. In the end, though, he ignored it, like everything else.

 _Humans are such strange creatures_ , he thought before returning happily to his work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Erebor, the day starts at 7am, thus that would be the first bell. So sixth bell means its noon. Just if you guys were wondering. Also, the scroll Bain was reading here is a real thing, minus the dwarvish consumption bit. It's a journal article I found during my research for another project. It sounded suitably dry and boring for my purposes here.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	7. Kili/Tauriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwarvish courtships were long and horribly complicated affairs. Tauriel was determined to learn, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel/Kili for you all. Enjoy!

Dwarven courtship, as expected, is a long and overly complicated affair and certainly nothing at all like elvish courtship. There were no love sonnets to be secretly exchanged or moonlight walks along the river. Certainly dwarves did not serenade their chosen with songs of romance and seduction. No, it was all ceremony steeped in tradition for dwarves. Rigid steps that must be performed in order and in just the right way before the pair may move along to the next portion of courting. The average courtship took no less than four years, though the greatest love stories in dwarvish lore talk of courtings that took place over the span of decades. For a dwarf, these intricate steps of love would be a challenge but not an impossibility. For an outsider, however, there was a steep learning curve with no room for error. Tauriel may be immortal, but she was also impatient. If she had her way she would sweep Kili off his feet with the customs of her people and they would be bound, body and soul, by the year’s end. A speedy engagement, even for her people’s standards, but an engagement nonetheless. She had no time to stumble through a dwarvish courting that she would no doubt ruin and then have to begin all over again.

Kili was not just an ordinary dwarf, though. He was a prince of Erebor. Third in line to the throne. It was expected of him to have a respectable courting from a respectable partner. Tauriel was already fighting an uphill battle being an elf and couldn’t risk losing any claim she had to Kili’s heart by bypassing dwarvish custom. Plus, Kili deserved the best and she wanted to give it to him.

So she enlisted the help of the few dwarves that tolerated her.

Dwalin was the first.

“Teach me how to forge,” she demanded, cornering him after his duties one evening. The warrior glared up at her, wiping sweat from his brow. He had just come from the training rings and after a long day of whipping weak dwarflings into strong soldiers he had been looking forward to a hot bath and hearty meal. Not being harassed by the she-elf.

“Piss off,” he replied, brushing past her. Tauriel was not deterred and simply used her greater height to block him once again.

“The first step in a dwarvish courtship is to present your intended with an item you forged with your own hand. I do not know how to do this and you will teach me.”

Dwalin stopped and studied her for a short moment.

“You know Kili won’t care what you make. You could give him a lump of iron that you hammered flat and he would think it’s the finest mirror ever crafted.”

Tauriel felt a tiny smile form on her lips at that. She believed what he said. Her sweet Kili.

“I know,” she admitted. “But I still want to do this correctly. He deserves that.”

The dwarf warrior grumbled and glared.

“Fine. But you have to train my newest recruits for a month in exchange.”

Tauriel nodded and stuck out her hand.

“Deal.”

Dwalin shook it. A month and a half later, as well as several curses, blistered fingers, and frightened soldiers, Tauriel had an item of decent make. A simple comb with diamonds along the handle. She kept it hidden on her person until the time was right to present it to him.

She sought out Dori next.

“I would like to learn the proper first greeting of courtship.”

The silver haired dwarf frowned, looking very mistrustful.

“It wouldn’t be proper for me to tell an outsider the way my people court,” he primly replied.

“You taught Bilbo,” she quickly pointed out. “I know this because he told me. I wish to court Kili properly and need to know how I am to present my first gift to him.”

Dori blustered about, not expecting Bilbo to betray his secret to an _elf_ , thought the hobbit in question made it no secret that he was fond of the red haired warrior. Tauriel patiently waited for the dwarf to gather himself and was rewarded with his agreement.

“Fine. I will teach you. But not a word of this to anyone or I shall be quite cross!”

Tauriel promised and after numerous tea sessions with the dwarf she could preform the hour long ceremonial greeting and presentation in her sleep.

Fili was the next person she approached.

“I have come to tell you my intention of courting your brother,” she informed him. Fili, to his favor, hardly batted an eye.

“I’m pretty sure you are supposed to tell Thorin first, being mine and Kili’s uncle.”

Tauriel shook her head.

“I did my research carefully. Thorin is your uncle but he is your king first. It would be inappropriate for him to show any favor to a potential spouse and thus cannot be consulted in the first steps of courtship. Your mother is not here which leaves you instead.”

That had Fili chuckling.

“You really want to court my stone headed brother? You know he used to think elves were grown from the dandelions that were pulled from a garden?”

Tauriel smiled at that.

“To be fair, it wasn’t until I left Mirkwood for the first time that I realized dwarves did not spring from holes in the ground.”

Fili nodded in agreement.

“Let me see your gift then.”

Tauriel handed it over and would never admit that she felt nervous. She and Fili were on good terms, nearly friends, but this was a different matter entirely. He could stop her plans of courtship before they even truly started if he wanted to. The prince carefully turned the comb about in his hand, examining it from all angles. He peered closely at the engravings along the handles and blew carefully on the diamonds embedded there, testing their clarity. After what seemed like an eternity he finally handed it back to her.

“A gift truly worthy of my brother, though he has the last word in all this.”

The relief she felt was astounding.

“Thank you,” she said, the sincerity in her words quite obvious. Fili smiled at her.

“You two deserve each other, Tauriel. I’ll stand by the two of you until the end.”

With those words of encouragement, she finally sought out her chosen.

She found him where she expected, on the battlements looking out at the wide world laid before them. Kili loved the Mountain, but he desired the freedom of the wilds. Like her.

“Kili,” she called out, gaining his attention.

The young dwarf turned to her with a wide smile, looking like he just received the greatest blessing that she was there. It was flattering and humbling.

“Tauriel! I’ve missed you,” Kili greeted, grabbing her hand in his. She gently squeezed it.

“I have been quite busy, _melamin_. I have something I wish to give you,” she explained.

“I can’t wait to see it. But first, I have something for you as well.”

To her surprise he pulled out a tightly rolled scroll, no bigger than her palm, that was tied with a red ribbon. Kili shyly presented it to her.

“Open it,” he encouraged.

She did as was asked. Inside was a poem. Not just any poem, though, it was one of love. The prose was a bit stilted and some of the words didn’t truly rhyme, but it spoke of the passion in Kili’s heart. The passion he felt for her. It was a true, elvish gift of courtship.

“Kili, I don’t know what to say,” she whispered in awe, reading the poem for a second time. It was just as beautiful as the first time.

Kili shyly shrugged.

“You don’t need to say anything. I just hope that you accept it. You know I had Bilbo do some spying on my behalf to find out how the elves court, specifically those of the Woodland Realm. I wanted to do it right.”

She looked up and smiled gently at him.

“It’s perfect,” she reassured. “Now, for my gift to you.”

She handed him the comb, which Kili took reverently. He looked at her with stunned eyes before turning them back to the gift.

“With this gift, forged of my own hand, I submit my heart to you, Kili, son of Vili. I humbly ask that you do me the honor of receiving my courtship,” she recited, just as Dori taught her.

Kili laughed softly.

“You learned what to say?”

Tauriel nodded.

“I did. The whole thing, too, if you have an hour or so to spar.”

Kili smiled widely and nodded eagerly.

For the next hour they exchanged traditional words of love and promises and it was the start of a proper dwarvish courtship with quite an odd pair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! This turned out way longer than I expected. I can't help it though. These two are just so romantic that they deserved all the words. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, parings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	8. Bilbo/Thorin Pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo knew he wasn't really a part of Thorin's pack. Still, he would think his contract protected him from this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Werewolf AU starring Bilbo and Thorin! Enjoy! :)

Bilbo knew he wasn't a part of Thorin's pack, contract for burglary aside. Still, he thought as he winced at the blood pooling from his ear. He thought the Alpha would have ignored him during their Change. How wrong he was.

The small, sand colored wolf limped toward the river they had hiked past earlier that day, in their two legged forms. He felt his back leg tremble with his weight, no doubt from the bite there. But at least he could walk on it, unlike the its sibling in the front. He held the paw aloft, careful not put pressure on it.

He made it to the water, and carefully waded in. The cool water soothed his sore muscles, eased his pain. He looked down at his reflection, mentally wincing at the sight he made.

His ear, though not torn and shredded, was bleeding sluggishly from various puncture wounds. Half of his face was missing fur, also bleeding from teeth marks. Carefully he dunked his head beneath the current, a small whine escaping his throat as he resurfaced. He repeated this action until he was sure his wounds were clean. Gently shaking his head, another whine at the pain this caused him, he pulled himself to the shore. Falling into the grass there he took stock of his remaining injuries.

Carefully he licked his back leg, cleaning the dirt and mud that was matted into his fur. Thorin was a skilled warrior as a dwarf, but Bilbo knew he was lucky to be alive after meeting him in his wolf form.

They had made camp just on the edge of a foreign wood, at least to Bilbo. He knew it would be a full moon, felt it thrum in his blood. The dwarves seemed to feel it as well, excited and eager, playing roughly with each other as the hours passed.

Right before the moon rose, Bilbo slipped behind a tree to remove his clothing. The dwarves, it seemed, cared little for privacy. They happily stripped together, joking and laughing together in the night. Finally the time came, and from the shadows the hobbit watched as each member of the Company Changed into their wolf form, each as unique as their dwarrow bodies were. He quickly let his own Change come over him, now immune to the pain that came with it after so many years.

Carefully he had slunk from the shadows, keeping his back to the woods so that he might keep the other wolves in sight. They were all so much bigger than he was. Even little Ori could pin him easily. But he knew he was faster, if it should come to that.

Back home, in the Shire, the Change was another excuse for merry making for the hobbits. Packs were informal and mingled casually with each other, often playing together in races and wrestling. He knew dwarves were different though.

Dwarves were territorial, dwarves were violent with outsiders. Dwarves were not hobbits.

So Bilbo kept to the outskirts of their camp, watching as the younger members of the Company happily wrestled together, giving yips and barks of excitement. He recognized a yellow and white wolf pin a dark brown one, correctly guessing this to be the brothers Fili and Kili. He watched as they continued to roll around together, a rust colored wolf joining in on their play. Ori if he were to bet on it. Their game of tussle quickly morphed into a game of chase, each nipping at each other before darting out of reach.

Unwittingly Bilbo let out a whine of longing, wishing he could run with them. The three young ones froze at the sound, looking toward where Bilbo sat. Kili's ears perked and his tail began wagging quickly.

With a happy bark he approached Bilbo, demeanor friendly and curious. The hobbit remained tense as he got nearer, ready to run if needed. But it was unnecessary, as Kili was a friendly in wolf form as he was in his dwarvish one.

Cautiously the hobbit sniffed at him, letting his get closer still. But it was only until the dark wolf licked his muzzle with cheeky twinkle in his eye that Bilbo relaxed. He returned the lick with a casual nuzzle and like that he was part of their fun. Ori and Fili approached him and the four of them ran off, barking together happily. Bilbo was more often the one chased than the chaser, being the smallest and fastest of them. But he didn't mind.

Fili finally caught him, using his bigger body to bring Bilbo down but ever careful of his smaller size. Happily the two wrestled, until Bilbo managed to pin the blond with his paws and leaving the other surprised. With a bark that could have passed as a laugh, he gave the other wolf a nuzzle of affection which was happily returned.

The hobbit's only warning was his keen ears picking up the growl before he was thrown off Fili and his world explored with pain.

With a high pitched yelp, he desperately brought up his paws to push the massive black body off him, trying to get free from where he was pinned.

Finally he managed to roll away, ignoring the pain in his ear as he faced his attacker. Crouched low, he watched the massive black and silver wolf growl and snap at him, his hackles raised. This was Thorin, King Under the Mountain and Alpha of the pack.

Bilbo carefully kept away from him, ears laid flat and belly low to the ground. He tried to appear as submissive as possible, trying to stave off another attack. Thorin stopped growling but still remained alert. Daring to get closer, Bilbo crawled to him, whining low in his throat and stretching his neck up. This was a mistake.

The wolf was on him once more, biting and out for the obvious kill. Bilbo gave all that he had, managing to even draw blood at one point, but was no match for the far larger wolf. It was only until a grey and scarred wolf, Dwalin he believed, tackled Thorin from the side that he had a chance to escape. He took it at once, ignoring his pain and ran to the woods, not stopping until he could no longer hear the sound of fighting.

And now here he was, alone and hurting in more ways than just physical.

With a whine, he curled up as best as he could, ever careful of his injuries, and tried to sleep.

However the sound of approaching footfalls alerted him that he was no longer alone and quickly he got to his feet, ready to run again.

He growled low as a wolf appeared from the dark, snapping as he came closer than Bilbo deemed comfortable. The wolf, dark brown and shaggy, stopped and got low. Bofur.

He whined at Bilbo, his head resting on his paws, concerned and wanting to help. But the hobbit had had enough of dwarves that night. With an angry snarl, the smaller wolf lunged at him, using a rare show of force to get the other to leave. He may not be the biggest wolf, but he was an Alpha in his own right and if he wished to be left alone he would be.

Bofur leaped back, away from his teeth and ears pinned back. He tried again, going to lick Bilbo's muzzle but he only got a painful bite in return. Finally taking the hint the other wolf turned and ran back from where he came.

Bilbo watched the miner run off, not caring for any hurt feelings. Such was the way of pack life and this was not Bilbo's pack.

So he slept the night alone, enduring the pain alone, until at last the sun rose and he returned to his hobbit form. Ignoring his nakedness he stumbled back to camp, stopping to fetch his clothes from the tree he hid them near the night before.

Dressed he entered camp, avoiding the concerned looks of the dwarves gathered. Instead he grabbed his pack and waited to the side, head down and waiting for the order to move out.

He missed the looks shared between the others, missed their whispers.

"Master Baggins," a soft voice came from his side. "Are you very hurt?"

Bilbo looked to see Ori nervously fiddling with his mittens, eyes fixed on his scanned ear and miss hair. The hobbit smiled at his worry.

"No, Ori. Believe me I've had worse in my youth," he replied, trying for a mischievous grin and failing. Ori saw right through it. With a frown, the scribe gently reached forward and brushed his hair aside so he could have closer look at his ear.

"Oin," he called, eyes fixed on Bilbo, "we need your aid!"

This caused the other dwarves to stir and begins to crowd around, despite the hobbits protests.

"Let me see 'im, move aside!"

Oin came beside him with his kit, and with hands more gentle than his appearance, began to inspect the burglar.

"Hmm," he frowned, carefully fingering the pointed ear and taking note of the hiss of pain it caused, "It'll need stitchin'. And wrappin'. Hurt anywhere else, laddie?"

Bilbo reluctantly held up his bruised hand and used his other to gesture to his injured calf. Oin looked these over as well, judging that his fingers were broken, but his leg would be fine.

"Don't 'ave any thing fer the pain, sorry lad. Best get it o'er with quickly."

Bilbo nodded, taking a moment to steel himself and carefully not looking at the wickedly curved needle that Oin fetched from his bag.

"Here, Master Baggins. Bite on this," Ori offered, handing him a stick wrapped in leather. The hobbit gratefully took it, giving the dwarf a soft pat in thanks.

"Bones first, that'll hurt tha most. Someone hold him, got a lot to set."

He felt a pair of arms wrap around his torso, the fur tickling his cheek suggesting it was either Fili or Dwalin.

"On three then. One, two..." SNAP!

Bilbo let out a straggled cry, biting down on the stick until he almost gagged. He knew Oin wouldn't wait till three, having known that trick since he broke his arm falling from an apple tree in his youth, but it was still a shock.

SNAP! SNAP!

In quick succession his other fingers were quickly set and wrapped. Finally Oin stepped back to give him a break and Bilbo gratefully went limp in the arms of whoever was holding him.

"Well done, Mister Baggins. You hardly flinched," a voice praised in his ear. Fili than.

Bilbo tiredly smiled, spitting the stick out.

"Not my first time getting bones set, m'boy. Remind me to tell you the story of when I tussled with a wild wolf during the Fell Winter. I may even show you the matching scar," he joked, voice weak from the procedure. Fili's arms tightened around him in response, holding him close enough to feel his heart beat beneath his furs and leathers.

"Now that ear. Couple o' sutures and you'll be right as rain."

Bilbo nodded, replacing the stick in his mouth and shutting his eyes. Oin was right. The bone setting hurt more, but that didn't make this any more pleasant. But the dwarf was skilled and finished quickly, leaving him with a matching wrapped hand and ear.

"I'll leave the puncture wounds alone. Best let them weep any infection that might come along."

The hobbit nodded and thanked him softly, feeling a bit drained. Fili didn't protest, instead shuffled the smaller man about a bit so he was resting more comfortably in his arms. The other dwarves wandered off, a few such as Bofur and Ori giving him small words of comfort and telling him they were glad he was alright. It was a very somber group.

When it was just the two of them Fili spoke.

"Master Baggins, I must apologize for what happened last night," he said, his words heavy and full of regret. The hobbit turned around and fixed him with a stern, but not unkind stare.

"You most certainly do not. You weren't the one who attacked me. That blame lays solely with Thorin," he lectured.

The young dwarf wasn't convinced.

"But I was the one who encouraged you to play more roughly and let you pin me. If I had kept things more tame, Uncle wouldn't have reacted."

Bilbo huffed.

"You didn't let me do anything, Fili. I pinned you fair and square, don't try to deny it. And anyone with half a brain could see it was all in good fun and nothing serious."

Fili frowned, his mustache looking like a sad and droopy willow. Bilbo sighed.

"Such is pack life, Fili, and I am not apart of Thorin's. I am very cross with him, but I understand his desire to protect his own. I myself have taken a few chunks out of those who would harm my kin."

This seemed to depress the boy, and he was really just a boy, even further. Taking advantage of his position, Bilbo gently nuzzled his button nose against the larger dwarf one. It was a familiar calming tactic in the Shire for young ones.

"If anything I should be thanking you, your brother, and little Ori for making me feel welcome. I was very honored to play in your games."

Fili brought him closer, burying his head into his neck like a pup did to his mother when seeking comfort. The hobbit smiled gently, hushing him softly and reassuring him over and over again that he was fine.

They say together as everyone else packed the up camp, and it was only until a great shadow fell over them that they separated.

"It's time to leave," Thorin spoke, a stony mask across his face. Bilbo simply nodded and gently patted at Fili's arms to release him. The boy was reluctant, but one look from his uncle and a smile from Bilbo had him untangling himself from the hobbit and helping him to his feet.

"Go scout ahead with your brother. I wish to speak with Master Baggins alone," Thorin commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. Fili nodded and walked away, only looking back once.

When he was out of earshot, Thorin spoke again.

"Master Baggins, I feel as though I must apologize for my actions last night."

Bilbo raised a brow and pursed his lips.

"Yes," he began and crossed his arms, "you do."

This seemed to surprise the dwarf, not being used to someone challenging him in such a way. Bilbo ignored it and continued on.

"I know how pack life is, and I won't fault you for wanting to protect your nephews. But as Alpha you must be able to differentiate between a true threat and one you make up in your mind. Anything else is poor leadership," he scolded, standing tall with his words. He earned the right to talk to Thorin this way and he would use it. That didn't mean the dwarf took it meekly.

"Who are you to say what an Alpha should and should not do," he growled, fists clenched. Bilbo wasn't cowed.

"Another Alpha. In fact, I wager I'm the only one here with the real right to challenge your authority during the Change."

His words seemed to shock the king. his brow furrowing deeply and his fists relaxing slightly.

"You're an Alpha? But last night, you showed submission!"

Bilbo rolled his eyes.

"Of course I did! This is your pack and you are the leader of this Company. And I'm not a fool. You could easily kill me (you would have last night if not for Dwalin's intervention!) if I actively challenged your place. Plus I do not think the others would take to that too kindly to it, regardless of the outcome."

Again, this seemed to stun and confuse the dwarf. As if he couldn't imagine another Alpha not wanting to challenge him and take his place. Bilbo sighed.

"Let's just agree that, in the future, I shall Change away from the camp and we will remain separated. And if, Valar forbid, we should meet as wolves again you will think before attacking. I would like to remain in one piece so I can later be burned to a crisp by a dragon, thank you!"

And with that he walked off, heading to where the ponies had been carefully hidden the night before and leaving Thorin behind.

It was only when they had been riding for an hour that Bilbo realized something. That damned dwarf had never apologized! Bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And stay tuned for tomorrow's continuation. Will Bilbo become a part of the pack? Will Thorin ever apologize? I doubt it for the latter. ;)
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	9. Bilbo/Thorin Pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Bilbo Changed in a time of crisis was during the Fell Winter. The second time was to save Thorin's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of yesterday's story. Enjoy!

The first time Bilbo underwent the Change in a time of crisis it was during the Fell Winter. He had only been a tween, a pup still growing into his ears and legs, but he had been older than some. He had been instructed to help some of his young cousin’s home before the sun fell below the horizon and it got even colder. They had just made it to the outskirts of Tuckborough when the wild wolves leapt from the underbrush and latched onto his little cousin, Paladin, dragging him through the snows. The sound of his pained and terrified screams shook Bilbo to his core and suddenly he was leaping at the offending pack and fighting with all he had. Paladin was able to escape and ran off with the rest of his cousins, calling for help while Bilbo help the wild wolves at bay. He didn’t remember much after that, only that he woke up in a bed in the Great Smials, with his mother standing vigil over him. That was the day they discovered he was an Alpha, like his mother before him.

The second time Bilbo shifted to save another person’s life was when that person was Thorin and the rest of the Company was hanging over a cliff. That time he had a better idea of what was happening and remembered exactly what he did to save the exiled king’s life. He remembered his teeth biting into the soft flesh of the orc ready to take Thorin’s head and the hot blood filling his mouth. He remembered the rush of protectiveness that overcame him as he crouched before the unconscious dwarf and held the white warg at bay. And he distinctly remembered the feeling of that warg’s teeth sinking into his back leg and shaking him about. He would have much preferred to forget that bit. He was utterly grateful for Gandalf’s friend and the time they were able to recuperate.

Beorn’s home was a pleasant place, full of greenery and peace. In a way it reminded him of the Shire, though it was a wilder version of his home. Still, it was more familiar to him than mountain’s and forests.

With a sigh he leaned back so that he was fully stretched out in the cool grass. Oin had given him a mixture of poppy milk and honey which helped with the pain in his leg and made his head swim pleasantly. Combined with the warm sun hitting each part of his body made it the perfect conditions to take a well deserved nap. He had been well on his way there when the sound of heavy boots against earth brought him back to full awareness. Frowning, he tilted his head back to see who it was bothering him. Thorin stared down at him with the same broody glare he had on when they first met, though Bilbo liked to believe he could see past the façade by now. There was something else there, behind the stone face of judgment. A flicker of interest, perhaps even concern, that wasn’t there before.

“Thorin,” he greeted, letting his head fall back to it’s natural position and shutting his eyes. He heard the dwarf shuffle behind him but ignored it. Finally, the dwarf sighed and settled down on the ground.

“You have taken Oin’s medicine,” the dwarf asked gruffly.

“I have.”

“Are you are not in any pain?”

Bilbo opened his eyes at that, peeking at the king beside him. Thorin wasn’t looking at him, rather glaring at the honey bees lazily flying near them. The hobbit didn’t know any better he would say the dwarf was a bit flustered by his showing concern for him, even if it was just a simple question.

“No, I’m not in any pain. Thank you.”

The dwarf grunted, obviously accepting his answer.

The two fell into an uncomfortable silence that Bilbo didn’t know how to fix, even if he could. Despite Thorin’s words atop the Carrock, when he had regained consciousness and Bilbo had shifted back to his hobbit form, things between them were still uncertain.

The dwarf king shifted slightly before speaking again.

“Tonight is another Change.”

Bilbo stayed quiet. He knew what night it was. He felt it in his blood, just like the dwarves did. However, with his injury and the unfriendly woods around them, Bilbo had been worried about where he might shift safely. The memory of Thorin’s less than welcome reaction the last time he had shifted with the dwarves was still fresh in his mind. If something like that happened this time, in his current state, Bilbo wasn’t sure he would be able to escape.

“I would have you Change with us. With my pack.”

 “What?”

Thorin sighed, glancing down at the hobbit before quickly looking away.

“I stand by what I said on the Carrock. I misjudged you, terribly. You have proven yourself more loyal than I could ever expected. You, who have no connection to Erebor, have stayed by our side despite the danger and my derision. You should not be forced to Change alone, without the comfort of a pack. You of all people.”

That had certainly startled him. Bilbo sat up.

“I’m not sure, Thorin. You may have changed your opinion of me here, while we are both in our two-legged forms, but what about when we shift? We both know thoughts can get muddled and reason isn’t always reliable.”

Thorin nodded, understanding his concern. He stood and turned to walk back to the cabin, but stopped for a moment.

“Please think on it. I would be honored if you joined us.”

Then he left, leaving Bilbo to consider what he had just been offered.

The sun had nearly dropped below the horizon before Bilbo made up his mind. The rest of the Company was already outside, their voices filtering through the windows. The door was shut, cutting him off from them. Gandalf had assured him that he could shift safely indoors, having reassured Beorn that he was a most well mannered wolf who wouldn’t soil his floors or ruin his bedding. However, the sound of the Company so nearby tempted him greatly.

Mind made up, he shed his clothes and patiently waited for the Change to come over him. When it did he carefully limped toward the door. A gentle nudge of his nose had it opened and he crept outside. The dwarves had also shifted and were content to mingle amongst each other, unaware that Bilbo had joined them. He preferred it that way.

Cautiously he laid down on the grass, still close to the house where he might make an escape if need be. For awhile he sat there, content with being ignored. It didn't last, though. Fili was the first to catch sight of him, his blond tail wagging excitedly at the sight of him. He eagerly approached him, dropping low to nuzzle his head against his. Bilbo huffed at the overly enthusiastic affection, but let it go. Something he had learned in his journey was that the young dwarf, though brave and strong, was still very much a pup.

Fili’s behavior caught the attention of the rest of the pack, who came over one by one to greet Bilbo. At first he felt overwhelmed, especially when the large, scarred form of Dwalin towered over him when he came to greet him, but that quickly disappeared with each affectionate cuddle and lick. It had been many years since he felt so welcome within a pack, even back home in the Shire. Bilbo had never really found a group of his own after his parent’s death and had to resign himself to the lonely life of a lone wolf. But with these dwarves he felt like was meant to be there.

He was happily cuddled between Fili and Kili when Thorin finally approached him. The great black and silver wolf walked up to him and growled softly beneath his breath, causing the young princes to reluctantly get up and walk off, though not before giving Bilbo a final cuddle.

The gold wolf watched the black one carefully, tense and ready to run, but Thorin simply took Fili’s place beside, close enough that Bilbo felt the heat of his body pour into his own. The wolf laid his head down on his massive paws, watching Bilbo with keen blue eyes. The hobbit, after a moment’s thought, let his head lay down beside him. They laid like this for awhile, simply side by side as they watched the rest of the pack play amongst each other, until Thorin shifted closer to him and Bilbo felt a flash of white hot pain shoot up his back leg.

His pained yelp echoed through the clearing, causing the rest of the Company to freeze what they were doing. Thorin, startled by the noise, quickly shifted away from Bilbo, giving him space. The black wolf turned and carefully sniffed at his injured leg, huffing at what he smelled. Bilbo whined softly, trying to readjust himself until the pain eased. Thorin mirrored his whine, ears slightly back as he made his concern known. He crawled closer to Bilbo again, careful not to his his leg, and gently nuzzled his massive head against Bilbo’s smaller one. The hobbit took the comfort that was being offered to him, whining softly as the pain continued to course through his body. Thorin gave his snout and ears gentle licks, grooming the fur there. Bilbo shut his eyes at the sensation, focusing on that and not his leg. It had been years since anyone had groomed him. He missed it greatly.

Slowly the pain receded, but still Thorin comforted him, cuddling as close as possible. At some point Bilbo had rested his head on Thorin’s own paws, while Thorin laid his head across his back. They spent the rest of the night entwined together and it was the best night Bilbo could ever remember spending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw! Thorin is just a big ol' cuddle bug, isn't he? Cuddling, in my opinion, is one of the best feelings in the world. I say we need more cuddling!
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	10. BilboXCompany Pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He would have followed him to the ends of the earth and back. But he was no longer the dwarf he knew. None of them were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain isn't quite working today and writing was like pulling teeth. But I got this out of it. BilboXCompany. Enjoy!

The hobbits words forced a stillness to the treasure room, each dwarf stopping in their frantic search for the lost heirloom as they comprehended what was said. Thorin, garbed in the heavy cloaks of his forefather and wearing an equally heavy crown of iron, was the first to react.

"What did you say?"

His question was more of a demand, a dare for Bilbo to repeat what he had said instead of clarification. No one misunderstood his words the first time.

"I would like my share of the treasure so I might begin my journey home."

The dwarves drew closer, dropping trinkets back into the overflowing piles of gold and gems as they wondered what brought this sudden change to their burglar. Why had his loyalty suddenly fallen?

"You would leave us now? When men and elves wait at our doorstep with tidings of war," Dwalin growled, shamed by this cowardice. Bilbo snorted and glared in return.

"You bring war upon yourselves, I speak against it. My contract had been fulfilled, I've seen to the dragon and Thorin is now King. I will have what is owed to me so I might return to my own home before death takes me," he replied, words harsh and angry. They knew the hobbit was against the aggression between the three races, but they had miscalculated how angry.

"You are entitled to one-fourteenth of this hoard. To sort it out will takes weeks and even longer to find the means of you returning home with it all," Balin cautiously reasoned.

Bilbo nodded, already knowing this.

"That is why I will take only a small fraction with me and leave the rest in the capable hands of Bard to manage while I am away. I've drafted a contract and he has agreed to the terms. All I need is one final signature and I shall be on my way."

Thorin growled, hands unconsciously drifting down to his sword.

"Those filthy men will not touch a single coin of my treasure," he snarled, stepping forward in a show of force.

Bilbo was not moved.

"It isn't your treasure, Thorin, it is mine now that my service to you is done. And if you deny my wishes I shall name this contract **maibrikh** and take what is owed me out of the flesh of your kin."

Silence fell hard upon the Company, each stunned by the halflings words. His claim was serious, even more so when leveled against a King, but it was his right. To go against it was to go against honor and the will of Mahal himself. Thorin must either abide by the contract or allow his sister-sons to be carved to bits as retribution. And it was a sad feeling as none of those present, save the King himself, knew which would be chosen.

After many tense moments, Thorin spoke.

"Your contract will stand. Bard will be made heir of your wealth in your absence," he growled, defeated but reluctantly so.

Bilbo nodded and handed a tightly rolled scroll to him. The dwarf took it, not even glancing at it as he passed it along to Balin.

With a final nod Bilbo turned to leave, only to be stopped by Thorin's next words.

"When did our friendship and loyalty become so little to you?"

The hobbit stopped and turned, fixing them all with a stern, yet pitying eye.

"When stopped being the honorable dwarf and great King I once admired."

He left without another word or glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	11. FilixKilixNori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin never thought an issue he would face as king would involve pranks caused by his nephew and spy master. Alas, it was becoming a more and more common one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, some prank happy FilixKilixNori. Enjoy! :)

Thorin felt a headache forming behind his eyes, the special kind that only ever happened because of a certain trio of misfits. Standing before him in his private office, away from the nosy busybodies of Court, stood his heir, his spare, and his spy master, all three looking completely chuffed with each other over their latest mischief.

“Tell me again why I shouldn’t throw you three into the dungeons for a month,” he growled, rubbing at the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to ease the pain there.

Fili laughed, shaking his blond head in amusement.

“Because you have no evidence of our involvement. Innocent until proven guilty, uncle,” he cockily informed, smirking at his cleverness. Thorin glared at him, though it really had no effect. Long past were the days when the young dwarf was intimidated by his uncle and could be controlled with a few well placed words of disappointment and looks of shame. How Thorin missed them!

“I will find evidence, sister-son, and when I do I will take great pleasure in exacting your punishment.”

Kili sighed, rocking back on his feet.

“You’re taking this too seriously, uncle. It was just some honey and feathers, nothing too damaging. Plus, I heard this noble deserved it. Arrogant sod who keeps deliberately snubbing Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur because they used to be miners. Forget that they faced a dragon and our now a high rank of nobility than he is.”

Thorin couldn’t fault him there. Lord Rinar, a Stiffbeard from the Red Mountains, was notorious for his dislike of the common folk and saw nothing wrong with sharing his views. He was wholly unpleasant, believing he was far more deserving than others simply because his family had never been of “poor birth” and enjoyed to flaunt his wealth and power over anyone he could. Kili, a dwarf with a heart so loyal it was nearly gold, didn’t take too kindly to his ways, especially when they were directed at those of the Company. Still, Lord Rinar was a guest of Erebor at the moment, and however much Thorin disliked him, he was a noble and was to be treated with proper respect. He told the three just as much.

“Oh, of course, your majesty! And when you find those responsible for these truly terrible acts you must let us know. We want to see justice being served!”

Thorin glared at Nori, who grinned back unabashedly.

“You’re mocking me. Few can do that and get away with it.”

“Luckily for me I’m one of those few.”

The dwarf king rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, studying the trio before him. He knew exactly how all this went down. Kili, upset with how his friends were being treated, informed Fili and Nori. Fili, the ring leader of the little group, immediately proposed a plan that would see their victim publicly humiliated and Nori, the master thief and spy that he was, ensured that whatever they did would go off without a hitch and be completely untraceable back to them. It was the same thing that happened every time some member of Court displeased them. A Lady from the Iron Hills made a pass at Dwalin, who was happily courting Ori, and the next day her dresses would be filled with fire ants. A nobleman of Dale would spout some ridiculously racist nonsense about the superiority of Man over Dwarrow and an hour later his food would be laced with some of Oin’s powders that would have him soiling his breeches for the entire evening. The last time they were in Mirkwood had been a complete political nightmare, though Thorin privately admitted seeing those arrogant tree-shaggers covered in horribly itchy rashes from stinging nettles had been amusing. Without fail, someone would get on their bad side and within three days would be the victim of their latest pranks. So far no one had been seriously injured, marks in their favor, but each had been utterly humiliating to those targeted. And Thorin could never find any evidence of their involvement, not even the tiniest shred.

What was worse was that he was one of the few who suspected them at all. The entire Company knew who was behind all these messes, but good luck trying to convince anyone outside of the fourteen of their guilt. To the outside world the princes were the pride of Erebor, role models for the citizens to look up to. And Nori was just another noble, though one rarely seen. The spy master had to have his anonymity to do his job after all.

“One of these days you three will slip up. And I will pay you back for all these headaches you have given me,” Thorin promised. The three continued to smile back at him, looking perfectly innocent. It was sickening.

“May I assume we are dismissed then, uncle,” Fili cheekily asked. Thorin sighed and waved a dismissive hand.

“Leave, before I put you three on nightly patrols just to spite you.”

They bowed and left as asked, leaving the king along in his office. Alone, Thorin thought back to his childhood in Erebor and wondered if he and his own siblings had ever been as troublesome as his nephews and spy master.

Thinking on it now he could honestly say they had been much worse.

“Better make sure Dis doesn’t give them any ideas,” he muttered, shuddering at the thought of his baby sister teaming up with her sons. Erebor would fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Thorin. He thought facing a dragon was hard, but then Fili, Kili, and Nori became best friends. 
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	12. Dis/Canon Husband

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was Fili and Kili's favorite bed time story, though Dis rarely told it. Sometimes, however, she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first Dis story, with canon husband. Enjoy!

It was Fili and Kili’s favorite story, one they begged their mother to tell nearly every night.

“Tell us the story of how you met papa, mama,” Fili would beg, snuggled down in his bed for the night.

“Yeah. Met papa,” Kili would sleepily agree, thumb tucked behind his lips and already halfway into sleep.

Dis would smile and hem, trying to convince them of another story. Most times it would work, the temptation of pirates and bandits and courageous heroes proving to be too much for them. There were other times, however, that they would not budge and Dis would tell them their favorite story.

Once, in a little town of England, there lived a wealthy family. This family had a mother, a father, two sons, and a daughter, and they were quite happy. The father owned his own company, one that created the finest jewelry and sold only to the richest of clients. The mother spent her days caring for her children and tending to their house, ensuring that both were always well maintained and never out sorts. The sons, Thorin and Frerin, learned alongside their father when they weren’t at school. It was their duty to understand the way their father’s company worked because one day it would be theirs to run together. It was a responsibility they took with the utmost seriousness. Dis, the daughter, was not meant to manage a company though. She had been taught since birth that her duty was to marry a man of worth, both of monetary value and social status. She was to be well rounded in her education, but not to seek anything greater beyond that. Instead she was to content herself with the same role her mother carried, raising children and keeping the house. Nothing more, nothing less.

Dis didn’t like this idea.

She was wild, like the winds that ran across the moor, and knew she would never be happy as a kept woman. But what was she to do? She loved her family dearly, despite their plans for her, and couldn’t abandon them. Even if she wanted to she knew she wouldn't last long of her own. She had no money and no connections outside of her family, both things she knew would disappear the moment she tried to escape her fate. So with a weary sigh she resigned herself to her fate.

Until one day a strange thing happened.

She had been sitting at her window, watching the birds fly by the trees, bits of leaves and twigs in their beaks as they made their nests for the season, when the sound of music caught her attention. Curiosity piqued, she looked for the source. There, in the dirt road that ran alongside the wall of her family’s estate, was a boy with blond hair and worn clothing. He had a whistle in his mouth and was playing a cheery sort of song as he walked along. He seemed unaware that he had an audience, so naturally Dis had to make herself known.

“You there,” she called out, waving her arm. The boy stopped his playing and looked up in surprise. Dis smiled down at him. “Do you know The Spanish Lady?”

“Aye, I do,” the boy replied, smiling at her.

Dis grinned and waved an encouraging hand.

“Play it for me, then. I’ve grown bored with the birds’ songs.”

The boy laughed back but did as asked. Dis smiled with delight at the sound of the tin whistle carrying over the breeze, swaying softly to the familiar rhythm. When the song ended she enthusiastically clapped to show her appreciation, causing the boy to give her an extravagant bow.

“What’s your name,” she asked, curious to know who this boy was.

“I’m Vili. What’s yours?”

“Dis Durin. Will you come back tomorrow and play for me Vili? I would like to hear more of your music.”

Vili happily agreed and the next day was there again. Every day he showed up to play for Dis. Sometimes it would be old hymns she was familiar with, other times it would be jaunty tunes that he created himself. Once or twice he had played her a naughty song he claimed to have heard being sung in the local pub, songs that had her blushing but smiling all the same. Her time spent with Vili was soon became the highlight of her days, though she was sure to keep it a secret from her family. If her father and mother knew what was happening they would put a stop to it at once, something she just couldn’t bare to think about.

She got to know Vili more and more, about his life and his family, and he came to know her. They shared secrets and dreams and things Dis had never once shared with another person before. But with Vili she found herself able to share everything. He never judged her. It was so refreshing.

One day, nearly a year after she first met Vili, the boy came to her house.

“Dis,” he called out softly, peering through the iron fence for her. Dis appeared, having sneaked into the garden when she should have been doing her lessons.

“I’m here, Vili,” she answered, smiling at him. The boy stuck his hand through the fence and at once Dis took a hold of it. His hand was so strong and worn from years of hard labor, but Dis thought it was perfect. She loved his hands.

“Will you play me a song, Vili?”

The boy smiled softly, but shook his head.

“Not tonight, Dis. Tonight, I would rather dance with you.”

She felt her breath catch in her throat and her heart race with excitement.

“How can we dance when there is a fence between us,” she asked, though she already knew the answer. Vili grinned, equal parts excitement and mischief.

“We sneak you out.”

So Dis went and they spent the night dancing until the sun peeked over the horizon. When she returned home it was to her furious parents, but she found that she didn’t care. The next day she snuck out again with Vili, though this time she didn’t return back. They were married that night and despite losing her family, Dis never once regretted her decision.

“And you lived happily ever after,” Fili asked softly, eyes closed and his brother asleep beside him. Dis smiled sadly, softly touching the locket that hung around her neck.

“Yes, Fili. We lived happily ever after.”

The boy fell asleep, blond hair tossed about on his pillow. Blond hair that matched her husband’s.

With a sigh she stood and left the small bedroom, stopping in the hall at the sight of a picture handing on the wall. It showed to young teenagers, smiling bright enough to blot out the sun and with love in their eyes. Her wedding photo.

“We lived happily ever after, for a time,” she amended. Her love story had a tragic ending, but it wasn’t one she would share with her sons until they were older. Let them think it was a fairy tale for now. Dis wish she still did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	13. BilboxCompany Pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the dust cleared from their minds and the battlefield they began to search for their lost friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, a continuation of my BilboxCompany story. I'm really happy you guys enjoyed it so much. It was such a hard day to write and I thought it wasn't very good at all. It made me so happy to see you guys thought the exact opposite. I hope the sequel meets your expectations. Enjoy!

It was a Man who found him.

He approached the tent of the King Under the Mountain with a solemn face, cradling the tiny bundle of blankets in his arms with all the gentleness of a father carrying his newborn. He laid the bundle on the cot before Thorin, stepping back with a bow.

“He was found near Raven’s Hill, sire. There was nothing that could be done for him,” the man explained softly, face lined with grief.

Thorin couldn’t speak as he approached the cot, only reach one shaky hand out to pull back the fabric covering his face. Bilbo was pale, far more pale than he had been when they escaped Mirkwood and he had been without sleep and food for weeks. His eyes were shut and his face cold, lips tinted blue. It wasn’t the Bilbo he remembered at all.

The dwarf had to hurriedly cover his face again, unable to bear looking at him another moment. Not like this.

“Thank you,” he said to the man, finding his voice again. “Thank you for bringing him to me.”

The man bowed his head again and made to leave. He stopped just short though.

“The hobbit was the bravest creature I ever met. I pray that he finds peace wherever his people go when their time here is done.”

With that he left, leaving Thorin alone. Except he wasn’t, not really. Bilbo was with him.

He didn't know how long he stood there, watching the cot with glazed eyes, but his silent vigil was interrupted by his Company. Fili and Kili arrived first, limping as fast as they could on injured legs.

“Uncle! Tell us it isn’t true!”

Thorin couldn’t do as they demanded of him. Instead he fell to his knees and hunched over the still body of their burglar. The rest of the Company understood his grief, and one by one they fell alongside him. The tent was filled with their cries of grief as they mourned their lost companion. A companion who had shown them the utmost loyalty and friendship and in turn they repaid it with scorn and betrayal. The guilt climbed through Thorin’s like a thousand spiders weaving their sticky webs around his heart and soul.

Blindly he reached out and took the cold, stiff hand, willing it to take his warmth.

“I’m so sorry to have lead you into such peril,” he grieved, uncaring of the tears that fell from his face or the audience he had in his mourning. “You, who deserved all the stars in the sky, must now rot while others live. It should have been me.”

They Company kept beside their fallen comrade through the night. When the sun rose it was Balin who spoke the words no one else dared.

“He will need to be buried, with the full funeral rites befitting his heroic life.”

“Somewhere sunny and warm, where hobbits should rest. Don’t hide him away in a cold mountain,” Bofur agreed, hat clutching in his hands.

Thorin nodded, standing from the ground.

“Aye. He will be laid to rest and be at peace. His name shall be sung in our Halls and beyond until the entire realm knows the name of Bilbo Baggins, Dragon Riddler and Dwarf Friend. He will not be forgotten.”

The dwarves agreed and one by one stood to pay one last respect to their friend. Thorin was last. He gently peeled back the blanket so he might see all of him.

Bilbo was dressed in the clothes of Man, a too big coat wrapped around ratty pants. He didn’t look like the hobbit that left his comfy home all those months back. Thorin would make sure he was buried in the right clothes. A waist coat and matching cravat. Dori would be happy to sew him something nice.

He reached out to stroke the limp curls, his last chance to do so. As he did something shiny caught his eye. Curiosity piqued he let his hand dip into the torn pocket of Bilbo’s coat. It was a ring, shiny and gold.

Picking it up he turned it slowly in his hand. It was warm to the touch, surprisingly so. Thorin had never seen it before this moment and wondered why Bilbo had it. Perhaps it was precious to him. He though of the hobbit wearing this or perhaps rolling it in his fingers as Thorin was doing. It called to him softly, promising him sweet memories of Bilbo. Suddenly the thought of parting with this ring was unbearable. This was his only connection to Bilbo and he would not let it be buried beneath the earth. He slipped it into his own pocket.

With one last look at his friend he turned and left, leaving Bilbo alone in death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) Well? What did you think? Love to hear from you.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	14. Dwalin/Tauriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had seen her fight. Now he wanted her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, Dwalin/Tauriel. Enjoy!

The she-elf intrigued him like no other. She was wild like dragon fire with a bite that matched. He watched her fight, a deadly dance of duel blades that took down enemies with each turn, and was entranced. Here was a creature that could match him where no one else could and the idea of fighting her for dominance had his blood running hot in his veins. From the looks she gave him, he could see it was a mutual thing.

He approached her that night.

The training ring was empty save for them. She was in the center ring, going through her paces with a grace that no dwarf could match. Dwalin found he didn’t like it. Such elegance didn’t suit her. He intended to fix that.

He jumped in the ring, his own ax held at the ready. She met him with sharp eyes and took his challenge. He leapt at her with all his strength, looking to push her into that wild frenzy he longed to see. She stubbornly refused, meeting each of his strikes with poise and calm. With a snarl he kept pressing forward, desperate to see the fire that he saw on the battlefield. He saw her in his dreams, the blood on her hands matching the red in her hair, pretty face contorted in a mask of ferocity that had him waking in the night, panting with desire. For awhile she resisted but he saw her tight control fade bit by bit, that blaze waken in her eyes once more. With a pleased and feral grin he kept pushing until, at last, she snapped.

With a ferocious cry she stopped meeting his strikes and began sending her own down on him. It was a challenge to keep up, but one he met with relish. Back and forth they fought, two wild animals fighting for dominance until the other submitted. Neither would. Dwalin felt his heart race and his desire grow with each passing hit. He tasted blood in his mouth and felt the sting of her blade across his arm and he wanted more. Enough was enough.

He took his next chance and broke her guard, throwing her blades to the grown along with his. Lips met in a heated frenzy and they continued their fight in another form. She had the advantage of height but he had the strength. Using it now he had her pinned to the ground, kissing, biting, and sucking every inch of skin he could reach. She returned the favor, suckling his torn ear before biting down with fervor.

He growled at the sensation, the mixture of pain and pleasure sending him further into ecstasy. Clothes were torn from bodies and left in ragged heap, but with their sacrifice new opportunities were open. Opportunities they quickly took advantage off. He felt her long, strong legs lock around his hips and her nails, sharp like the blades she wielded, leave stinging furrows down his back. He grunted and returned the favor, biting into her shoulder until he could taste blood. Her battle cries echoed through the empty hall and ignited his blood like no other. He wanted to hear more but she wouldn’t simply give in to his will. With her greater height she flipped them until he was on his back and she sat astride him. Dwalin found he liked this new position very much, now able to see her in full control of their fight.

She stared down at him with a crazed, animal like look and he was pinned in her gaze. Never had he seen a more beautiful creature. He wanted her for his own. With a grunt he pushed up so that they were both sitting and wrapped his strong arms around her. He met her lips again, swallowing all her wild cries. And then it was over. The fight drained from their body and they were left in the aftermath of their war. Yet Dwalin found he didn’t want to let her go. So he didn’t. She seemed just as content to stay where she was, at least until their next fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an intriguing pairing, because both are such great warriors that I can't see either letting the other lead. It would be a constant fight for dominance between the two, with nothing soft or gentle. At least, that's what I think. I'd love to hear your take on it.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	15. Fili/Sigrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment he entered his quarters he knew something was off but couldn't name it. Perhaps his wife knew?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fili/Sigrid + fluff = happy me. :) Enjoy!

Something was off. Fili couldn’t say what, only that he knew that it was. The moment he walked into his quarters for the evening he knew. Looking warily about him he tried to point out what was making him feel this way. That was how Sigrid found him, standing in the center of their receiving room, squinting suspiciously at their couches and rugs.

“Good evening, husband,” she greeted calmly, stifling an amused smile. Fili grunted at her, still look about the rooms. She let him examine it to his heart’s content before speaking again.

“Anything the matter?”

Fili frowned, glancing at his wife. She seemed unaware of anything being amiss in their home.

“Something is different,” he replied, tugging at his mustache as he did another turn about the room. “Yet I can’t say what.”

Sigrid raised a brow and made a show of looking about herself.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed anything amiss. What do you think it could be?”

Fili shrugged, carefully examining the mantle of their fireplace. Nothing was different there.

“Did you entertain anyone today? Perhaps they moved some furniture by accident.”

Sigrid shook her head, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“No. I’ve only just returned myself and no one, save the servants who clean, has been all day.”

It was really starting to bug Fili. His instincts were screaming at him that things were different and he learned a long time ago to listen when his gut was warning him.

“Perhaps it isn’t the room,” he mused, turning to face his wife. Sigrid stood calmly before his inspection, hands clasped before her. She raised another brow at him, mouth now unabashedly turned up in amusement.

“It’s you,” he announced suddenly, striding toward his love. “You’re what’s different.”

“Perhaps,” she replied vaguely, smiling down at him.

Fili walked around her, looking her up and down.

“Is it your hair? Are you wearing it differently?”

Sigrid shook her head.

“No, dearest. I’m wearing the same braids you put in this morning and every morning since we were wed.”

Those words sent a small thrill through his body, but he promised he would explore that later. Right now he had to know what was different.

“Your dress. It’s a different style!”

Again, the woman shook her head.

“This is the same dress I wear to court ever Trewsday. Far more comfortable than my others.”

The dwarf prince was stumped. It wasn’t her hair, nor was it her dress. Perhaps her jewelry? He asked to examine it. Sigrid obligingly leaned down, showing off her ears and shapely neck. Fili gently stroked the jewels, confirming that they were the matching set he made her as a courting gift. What could it be?

“Tell me,” he demanded, feeling rather put off. “I know something is different and it’s driving me insane trying to figure it out.”

Sigrid laughed heartily, standing back to her full height.

“Perhaps a hint,” she teased. “There is something different, but it won’t be glaringly obvious for months to come.”

“That’s not a very good hint,” Fili grumbled with a disgruntled pout. Sigrid’s smile softened. She carefully reached down and grasped one of his large hands with her own delicate ones. Carefully she guided it until it rested on her belly.

For a moment Fili just stared, not quite understanding the significance of the gesture. The princess patiently waited, watching with delight as the meaning dawned on her husband’s face. It was like watching the sunrise, gradual and then brilliant.

“You mean?”

He didn’t need to finish he question, his words eager and disbelieving. Sigrid smiled widely down at him.

“Oin confirmed it just this morning.”

With a shout of joy, he gently picked up his wife and swung her around, their laughter filling the room, before placing her back down.

“A father! I’m going to be a father!”

Sigrid nodded, cheeks hurting with the strength of her smile.

“By mid-summer, if Oin and I counted right.”

Fili knelt down on the floor so that he was level with his wife’s belly. He looked at the soft blue cloth covering the miracle within, eyes full of awe.

“We’ll have to tell Thorin and the kingdom. There will be celebrations for weeks to come.”

Sigrid nodded.

“In time, my love. For now, let’s just enjoy this ourselves.”

Fili couldn’t argue with that. As much as he wanted to shout this news from the battlements, he also found that he wanted to keep it to himself, if only for just a bit longer.

With a happy smile he placed a chaste kiss on Sigrid’s belly before standing and bestowing another on her lips. He was the luckiest dwarf alive, he was sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite things to do is watch those pregnancy announcement videos on YouTube and see the reactions. Especially when it's the woman telling the man. So cute! And I know I already posted a pregnancy centered story with this pairing, but this time the baby is Fili's! How cute would that be?
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	16. BilboxThorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being trapped in your own mind was something Thorin wouldn't wish on his worst enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I've been doing math homework all day! I needed a break so you guys are getting a story early. Platonic Bilbo and Thorin. Enjoy!

Being stuck in your own head was something Thorin wouldn’t wish on his greatest enemy. One minute you were making tea in your kitchen when the kettle would begin to whistle and in the next moment you are back on the field of battle, and the whistle you hear is a bomb dropping from the sky and landing on your friends, scattering their souls into the wind. It was so real, he could see the scene with his own eyes and smell the stench of smoke and blood. Any memory of his cozy little kitchen was gone and his mind was consumed with the horror he had lived through as if it were a scene on repeat.

“How are you today,” his therapist, a small man with curly gold hair would ask, the barest hint of curve at his lips and his eyes shining with pity. Thorin hated pity.

“You know the answer to that question, so why bother asking,” he growled in return, glaring at the man. Dr. Bilbo Baggins, in his opinion, was the least qualified person to help him and yet he was the one assigned to his case. It made Thorin grit his teeth and fume with anger, sure he was the butt of some joke or not taken at all seriously in the clinic. Why else would they assign him some useless grocer who had never seen combat?

Dr. Baggins sighed, closing his notebook.

“Thorin, it’s been six months since you’ve started seeing me. In that time, we have made very little progressive,” he explained, mouth twisting into a face Thorin now knew meant he was frustrated. Thorin snorted, rolling his eyes.

“It’s not my fault you are an incompetent therapist. You’re more suited for grocery work than psychiatry.”

The insult was biting and he could see the hurt in the other man’s eyes, though he quickly covered it up. Thorin felt a small thrill of victory at that, wanting to hurt the man in some way. It eased his own pain and suffering, something he couldn’t feel guilty over. Especially when it was aimed at a civilian, soft and ignorant to the true nature of the world, violence and death.

“You came here seeking help, Thorin,” Dr. Baggins continued, as if Thorin hadn’t just insulted him. “Or at least that’s what you claim. I’ve gone through numerous exercises with you, prescribed various medications to help with your episodes, yet you refuse to partake in any of it. I’ve called the pharmacy and not once have you picked up any of the medication you have waiting. Therapy only works if you are willing to put in the effort. It’s not a magical fix.”

Thorin felt his frustration growing. He didn’t come here to be told he was failing; he knew that well enough already. His episodes were coming more frequently and more violently, not that he would share that with Dr. Baggins. The other day his nephew had dropped a dish and Thorin lashed out, thinking the young man was an enemy trying to kill him. Fili had managed to pull him off, but Kili had to go to the hospital for a broken nose. Never had Thorin felt more shame then when he saw the fear in his beloved nephew’s eyes, fear that he put there.

“Perhaps if I had a therapist who knew the first thing about his job. You’re useless and have no place in this clinic. You do more harm than good and should be removed at once,” he snapped back, truly believing his words. He may be failing his therapy, but the fault lay solely with his worthless doctor. Of that he was certain.

Dr. Baggins smiled sadly at him.

“I’m sorry you think that, but I agree with you in part. I don’t think I am the right therapist for your case and have spoken with Dr. Elrond on the matter. He has agreed to take you on as a patient for a three-month trial period. If, at the end, it still isn’t the right fit we will start looking for someone else.”

It had been the best news Thorin had heard all week. With a satisfied nod he stood from his chair.

“Then I assume I’m free to go?”

Dr. Baggins sighed and nodded.

Thorin made for the door.

“I hope you find the help you need, Thorin. Truly, I do,” he called out to him, but Thorin ignored him. He wanted nothing to do with the man who failed him.

A week later he was back at the clinic, though in a far different office. Dr. Baggins’ kept his rooms in a cozy, familiar style. Plush couches with blankets and warm colors filled the room. He always served warm tea and had a plate of cookies out to nibble on. Dr. Elrond’s office was the exact opposite.

Minimal yet calming, it was cool and open. Soft music played in the background, a harp of some sort, and there was no tea set out. Thorin hated it.

Dr. Elrond was a tall, dark haired man with a serene looking face. Thorin couldn’t tell his age but he did exude an air of wisdom. The medals on his desk said he had been through the last war, which made him older than Thorin, but younger than his father.

“I must confess, Mr. Durin, I’m surprised that Dr. Baggins didn’t work out for you,” the man started, sitting down across from Thorin with his notebook open. “We thought he would the right match for you, giving the fact that you two have a lot in common.”

Thorin raised a brow at him. He had nothing in common with that soft little man, which he told Dr. Elrond as much. It was the doctor’s turn to raise a brow at him.

“Dr. Baggins’ was a POW for two years before escaping the clutches of S.M.A.U.G. We assumed since you had been a part of a specialty team that dealt heavily with that particular terrorist group it would do you good to talk to someone who went through similar experiences as you,” he coolly informed. Thorin felt his stomach drop and nausea begin to set in. He didn’t believe it. It wasn’t true.

“You lie! Baggins has never once set foot on the battlefield. Don’t you dare mock the sacrifice of my brothers made by saying that _weak halfling_ could ever understand what we went through,” he raged. Dr. Elrond leveled a steely look at him.

“I do not lie, Mr. Durin, and would thank you not to insult my honor by implying that. I would also ask that you do not insult my colleagues, especially Dr. Baggins who has been through more than most can imagine. If he did not share this information with you it was his own reason, but it was no secret. A simple internet search would have told you everything you needed to know.”

Thorin felt his heart racing and pounding in his ears. His palms began to sweat and his breathing became labored. He recognized the signs of an oncoming attack, as did Dr. Elrond. The other man quickly began to coach him through his breathing, his cool, authoritative voice breaking through his mind and thoughts. Slowly, but surely he came back under control.

“Today has obviously been a trying one for you,” Dr. Elrond said as he handed him a glass of water, which Thorin gladly took and downed quickly. “We will end the session today and try again next week.”

Thorin found himself nodding and retreating quickly, needing to put as much distance between himself and the clinic as possible. When he got home he did as Elrond suggested and began researching his former therapist. What he found wasn’t pretty.

News articles and media coverage from the early part of the war, when Thorin was still in university and the wealthy, arrogant son of a business tycoon, spoke of a small group of soldiers disappearing along the border of Mordor. Five in total. Video footage weeks later was sent out of the missing men, bound and forced to kneel with bags over their heads. A man spoke into the camera, claiming responsibility for the capture of the five soldiers and making demands. If they weren’t met, they would start executing them. A video from a month later showed that there were only four soldiers left, then three, then two. Thorin stared at the frozen image, trying to reconcile the face he saw there with the one he knew. The soldier in the video was young, but Thorin could recognize that gold hair anywhere, though the curls hung limply over dull eyes. Bilbo Baggins. A feeling that he couldn’t identify began to well up in his chest. It was a mix of anger, shame, guilt, frustration, and sickening feeling of harsh enlightenment. He shut down his computer and went to bed, his dreams filled with the gaunt face of the man he accused of weakness.

The next morning, he returned to the clinic.

He found Dr. Baggins in his office, staring out the window with a blank face, lost in thought. Thorin knocked on the door, startling the man from his thoughts. He turned and gave him a sad smile.

“Thorin. I’ve been expecting you. Please, come in.”

Thorin hesitantly entered, uncertain of his true welcome. But Dr. Baggins gestured for him to take a seat and at once began to make tea. There was a fresh plate of cookies on the coffee table. It was all so familiar and yet far different than before.

Bilbo placed the freshly made tea tray on the table before sitting down in his arm chair with a sigh. They sat in silence for a long while before Thorin finally spoke.

“You were a soldier.”

“I was.”

“You were a prisoner of war.”

“Yes.”

“Your men died. You watched them die.”

“I did.”

Thorin looked up, pain etched in his face.

“Why didn’t you tell me? These past six months I’ve mocked and belittled you, not knowing all that you had been through. Why?”

Bilbo sighed, leaning back into his chair.

“It isn’t something I’m particularly fond of speaking of. I imagine you can understand that. More to the point, I didn’t think you were ready to speak of such things with me yet. I though in time, when we became more comfortable with each other, I would share my own past. It never came to that though.”

Guilt ate at him like a disease.

“I called you weak and useless. Never have I’ve been so wrong in my life. I’m sorry.”

Bilbo smiled sadly at him.

“Thank you. That truly means a lot to me.”

Thorin nodded, wishing there was more that he could say. One apology seemed insufficient for the months of abuse Thorin had leveled at him.

“Is there anything I can do to make up for the pain I’ve caused you?”

“Work with Dr. Elrond. I truly believe he can help you, but only if you make an equal attempt. Do the exercised he assigns; take the medicines you are prescribe. Do that and I will be happy.”

Thorin hesitated but agreed. It was the least he could do.

“I will do my best.”

Bilbo smiled at him.

“That’s all I can ask. And, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m always available. I may not be your therapist anyone, but I can still be your friend. If you’ll have me.”

Thorin found himself smiling in return.

“I would like that.”

They finished their tea in a quiet peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no experience in PTSD and am basing this story off the research I have done online and through my psychology classes. I meant no offense in the portrayal of Thorin here and hope none of you took it as such.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	17. Dori/Balin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dori was not an outdoorsman, not by definition of the word. But Balin was, and he loved his husband. Which was why he was now camping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dori/Balin. Enjoy! :)

Staying true to his fussy appearance and mannerisms, Dori was not an enormous fan of the outdoors. He could enjoy having a nice meal on a balcony, or perhaps a bonfire on a summer night. However, when it came time to sleep he was a firm believer of being in a bed surrounded by four walls and a roof that were wired with electricity. He had never even been camping in his backyard as a boy, not at all fond of sleeping on hard ground or in the cold.

Balin was the opposite. He grew up on the wild moors and spent his childhood exploring the depths of the wilderness, claiming he came back muddied and with ruddy cheeks for a quick snack before rushing outside again. It only made sense that he had put his childhood knowledge to use as he became older and became a full-fledged scout. Dori, in comparison, went to etiquette and social graces lessons much to his genuine delight.

“I cannot believe you convinced me to do this,” he huffed and grumbled as they drove along a bumpy road in the middle of nowhere. Balin smiled benignly at him from his spot in the driver seat, well used to his husband’s fussing.

“Don’t worry, dearest. It’s just for the night. And tomorrow I will treat you to a wonderful brunch in thanks for humoring this old man.”

Dori sighed, rather melodramatically.

“You aren’t old,” he informed. That had Balin laughing a full belly laugh.

“These white hairs tell otherwise.”

Dori smiled at him, grabbing his free hand and giving it a soft kiss.

“Simply a mark of a distinguished man, darling. Age has nothing to do with it.”

Balin chuckled and gave his hand a squeeze. They held on for the rest of the car ride.

An hour later they made it to their campsite, though Dori couldn’t tell you why this particularly empty bit of earth was better than the others. Balin seemed confident though, so the other man was inclined to follow his lead. What he wouldn’t give for a warm cup of tea right now! And some fresh biscuits along with it.

“I’ll start unloading. Why don’t you gather some wood for a fire? The drier the better.”

Skeptical, but trying to maintain an open mind for his husband’s sake, Dori did as asked. Surprisingly there was quite a lot of kindling for an open area so devoid of tree life as was their campsite. Every way Dori turned was an endless stretch of grass and hills, with only small bushes breaking up the horizon every so often. It was quite daunting, being in such a large and open space. He missed their little cottage in the woods.

“It’s just for one night, Dori. You can put up with one night,” he scolded himself, arms full of dry brush and little sticks. He was certain this was enough for their purposes and turned back to walk toward Balin. Unfortunately, his large bundle blocked a good portion of his vision and he missed the rabbit hole right in front of him. With a pained and shocked shout he went down, carefully gathered tinder flying every which way, and landed with a great thump.

“Dori! Are you alright,” Balin asked, running up and helping him stand. Dori winced as he stood, gingerly rotating his ankle. A sharp twinge flew up his leg.

“I think I twisted my ankle,” he gasped, leaning heavily on his husband. Balin helped him hobble back to their campsite and set him down one of the chairs he set up. He knelt down and carefully examined his ankle, removing the boot and sock so he could see the extent of the damage. Careful probing fingers confirmed that it was twisted, but thankfully not badly sprained.

“I have a wrap in the first aid kit, but there’s not much we can do except keep it elevated for awhile,” he informed. The older man hurried to the truck to get the medical kit there, coming back with the promised wrap, as well as a bottle of water and a packet of pain pills. Dori gratefully accepted them, letting Balin tend to his foot.

“There,” he announced, giving the injured foot a gentle tap. “All doctored. Now you just rest while I finish with the rest.”

Dori smiled tightly at his husband. Truly he wanted to just go home, but he could tell how happy Balin was being out of doors, so he kept his mouth shut. Instead he watched him bustle around the camp, starting a fire with the kindling Dori had gathered.

“I hope you’re hungry. I have a real treat for you tonight,” Balin informed cheerily, holding up a cooler.

Dori was intrigued. Balin had told him nothing of their plans for tonight, only that they were camping. Any thing he had planned would be a total surprise for him.

“I am rather famished.”

“Wonderful! You just sit tight and I’ll have it all ready in a jiffy.”

Twenty minutes later Balin approached him with two plates heaped with food. Or at least Dori thought it was food.

“ _Bon Appétit!_ ”

He hesitantly took the offered plate, not sure what to make of pile. It was off yellow, some parts were runny and some were burnt. A tentative sniff gave no real clue as to what it is. Looking at his husband, who was happily shoveling the food into his mouth, he realized that this was his dinner for the night. Gathering his courage, he picked up his fork and scooped up a decent portion of his mystery meal. The minute it touched his tongue he instantly regretted it. The texture was awful, the taste far worse. He had no accurate way of describing it, only that it was horrendous against his refined palate. It took all he had to swallow the mess down, fighting his gag reflex the entire time. In the end it went down, though he wasn’t so sure it would stay down.

“Not hungry, love?”

Balin looked at him from his own spot, plate practically licked clean.

“I think the pain killers are making me feel a bit nauseated,” he lied. Balin seemed to believe it.

“If you’re sure. I can finish your plate if you like.”

Dori gladly handed it over and watched with sickening fascination as his husband cleaned that too. When it was over he felt that it was time to end the day. The sun had long since set.

“I think it’s time we turn in for the night. Is the tent all set up?”

Balin chuckled.

“No, but only because I didn’t bring a tent. It’s summer and such a fine night to sleep beneath the stars.”

Dori blinked at him from across the fire, his words settling in his mind.

“No tent?”

Balin shook his head, a content smile on his face. That was the last straw for Dori.

With an angered huff he stood from his spot and hobbled to the car, intent on getting in and driving far away.

“Dori?”

He ignored Balin’s confused call and climbed as best as he could into the passenger seat.

“Get in, Balin. We’re going home. Now.”

His husband was honestly baffled.

“But we’ve only just got here.”

Dori glared at him.

“When you said we were going camping I assumed that, at the very least, we would have a tent. There is no tent so we will not be camping. End of discussion.”

“But, Dori-“ “Now, Balin!”

The older man sighed and began to pack up their things. Dori stubbornly kept in his seat, glaring ahead of him.

Thirty minutes later and most everything was ready to be loaded into the car. Balin stood outside, shuffling his feet.

“Dori,” he hesitantly asked, standing beside the car door. “Can you at least come sit with me for a bit? There is something I want to show you.”

Dori looked at him and felt his resolve begin to melt away. He could never resist Balin’s sad eyes. With a sigh he opened the door and got out. Balin gave him a soft smile and offered his hand. Dori took it and let himself be lead to the back of their truck. He was surprised to see the entire bed filled with pillows and blankets, creating quite cozy looking bed.

“I thought we could look at the stars together,” Balin quietly informed.

“I guess we can spare fifteen more minutes,” Dori replied, equally as quiet. Balin helped him into the back, following right behind him. After a minute of shuffling the two found a comfortable position, arms wrapped around each other and their eyes facing up.

Dori had never seen so many stars in his life. The whole sky was filled with them, like glitter thrown across a blanket of deep blue and black.

“There’s Orion. You can tell by the three stars that make his belt,” Balin pointed out. “And next to him, where his bow is being fired, that’s Taurus. And there, just below, is Eridanus.”

Dori listened as Balin recited each constellation for him, sometimes telling him the stories behind the figures up there. Fifteen minutes turned into thirty and then an hour. Soon the two fell asleep and the stars continued to shine above them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watching the stars like Dori and Balin did here is actually on my bucket list. I want to drive into the middle of nowhere, with no light pollution, and just cuddle with someone while we watch the stars pass. How magical would that be? Someday!
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	18. Bilbo/Bofur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Bofur sent the request, it was meant as a joke. He didn't know the pizza place would actually do it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bofur/Bilbo. Enjoy!

Bofur had a serious problem.

It all started when thought it would be funny to write on the request section of the online pizza delivery page something clever. With a chuckle he typed out a quick little note.

 **Send your cutest delivery boy**.

He didn’t think they would actually take him seriously. But, lo and behold, 45 minutes later he happened to open the door to what was probably the cutest man he had ever seen.

Curly gold hair fell from beneath his red cap and and his cheeks were flushed red.

“I-I have your pizza,” he shyly said, not really looking Bofur in the face. The name tag on his uniform read **Bilbo**. Bofur thought it was the perfect name for one so cute.

“Oh, y-yeah. Of course,” he hastily replied. He fished his money from his pocket and handed it to the other man and grabbed his pizza. Bilbo, still not quite looking at him, quickly counted out his change and handed it over. When Bofur grabbed it their hands brushed and he swore the man let out a tiny squeak.

“H-have a nice night!”

With that he dashed back to his car. Slightly dazed, he retreated back inside and placed his pizza on the table. On the top of the box was his receipt, his request printed neatly at the bottom. Just below that a was a handwritten note.

_Send Bilbo! ;)_

That had him raising an eyebrow. Opening the box, he grabbed a slice of cheese pizza and began munching away, all the while thinking of gold curls and red cheeks.

The following week he ordered another pizza and made the same request.

**Send your cutest delivery boy.**

45 minutes later his doorbell rang and Bilbo was standing on the other side, a little more composed than last time but still rather flustered.

“Y-your pizza, sir.”

Bofur smiled, taking the meal.

“Thanks. You know, you ran off so quickly last time I didn't get to give you your tip.”

Bofur felt a small thrill at the sight of the little man’s cheeks reddening at the mention of their last encounter. He was glad that he remembered.

“W-well, last week was very busy. I-I had lots of deliveries to make.”

Bofur nodded and made a noise of understanding, but he knew could see past the lie. He let it slide though.

“Fair enough. Here you are. That’ll cover this week and last.”

Bilbo gave him a shy smile.

“Thank you. Have a nice night.”

He walked back to his car, giving Bofur the chance to ogle his backside. He took it with out shame. That night, while he ate his pizza, he thought of round little bottoms and shy smiles.

Three days later he ordered another pizza, and once again Bilbo showed up at his door.

“So, do you like delivering pizza?”

Mentally he winced. What a question to ask! He couldn’t think of something better to entice the man into conversation?

Bilbo smiled softly at him and shrugged.

“It helps pay the bills but I don’t see myself making a career out of it.”

Bofur nodded, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. So Bilbo left when he paid for the pizza, a quiet good night falling from his lips. Bofur beat himself up the rest of the night.

For weeks this went on, always with the same request.

 **Send your cutest delivery boy,** and they always did.

He ate so much pizza that his fridge was stuffed with leftovers. He would kill for a salad, but just couldn’t bring himself to not order from somewhere else.

He decided he had to do something about this.

He sent in his order and waited. The doorbell rang and opened the door to Bilbo’s smiling face.

“One order of half-cheese, half-sausage.”

“Thanks, Bilbo.”

The man waved off his gratitude with a gentle smile. He had lost much his shyness around Bofur, though at times it peeked out its head when he said something particularly flirty to the man.

For a moment they just stood there, neither knowing exactly what to do next. The pizza had been delivered and paid for, yet neither wanted this interaction to end. Bofur took his chance.

“When do you get off work?”

Bilbo looked at him with surprise.

“Um, now actually. You’re my last delivery for the evening.”

“Have dinner with me then,” he blurted out, unable to do anything else. Bilbo’s face flushed red and he averted his eyes. For a moment Bofur thought he was going to be rejected and felt his heart crumble. But then Bilbo peeked shyly up at him through his curls, that same soft smile on his lips.

“I would like that,” he replied.

Bofur grinned widely. He stepped aside and gestured for Bilbo to come in. Suddenly he was no longer sick of eating pizza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually done this before. And a really shy teenager showed up on my doorstep, blushing like crazy. I gave him a good tip for his troubles. :)
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	19. Tauriel/Sigrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has always been Sigrid's responsibility to look out for the rest. Tauriel can see the strain this puts on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigrid/Tauriel. Enjoy!

Sigrid was no stranger to responsibility. After losing her mother at such a young age, she took the title of 'lady of the house' with a somberness rarely seen in adults. She cared for little Tilda, just a babe in swaddling cloth, and Bain. She cleaned, she cooked, and always made sure her bone weary father came home to a family well cared for. It didn't leave much room for a real childhood, but Sigrid was glad to make the sacrifice. It meant her family lived and her family was her world.

As she got older things became easier. Not only was she physically capable of doing more, but Tilda and Bain didn't need as much supervision either. When she was sixteen she felt as if they were finally getting a chance to breath, one eight years in the making. But then dwarves appeared out of their toilet and the dragon rained fire on the lake. When it was all over there was no time for rest, not when death nipped to close to their heels. Royals rarely got breaks.

The rebuilding of Erebor and Dale was constant affair, one that had her days blending together into an endless stream of exhaustion. She couldn't remember the last time she had a decent nights rest. Perhaps shortly after the Battle of Five Armies was won? That didn't matter though. Her people needed to be clothed, sheltered, and fed. It was her responsibility to ensure that.

This was where Tauriel found her, hunched over a low table with piles of paper around her and a single candle that was nearly burnt out. The she-elf gracefully stepped into the room, purposefully making her steps heard to alert the young woman of her presence. Sigrid didn't look up from her work, instead picking up a quill to make an adjustment to what was written.

"Sigrid," Tauriel spoke, voice pitched low so as it wouldn't wake the others in the home bite nonetheless full of authority. "You must rest. The work will be there in the morn."

"Our food supply is dwindling and I don't know why. I must rewrite these figures or we shall starve this winter," the woman replied, eyes glued to her work.

Tauriel frowned and approached her.

"Rest will help you find your solution. You must take it."

She ignored her. Tauriel, however, was not to having any of it. She grasped the back of Sigrid's chair and pulled it away from the table. Before the woman could properly react, the elf picked her up from her seat and carried her out of the room.

"Tauriel! Put me down this instant," Sigrid hissed, struggling to be let down. However, Tauriel had decades of experience as a warrior and was quite able to hold her own against the weakened struggles of a human woman. Privately it concerned her just how easy it was to hang on to Sigrid. She had pushed herself too far for too long and it was beginning to effect her greatly.

"I will, when we reach your bed," she replied, tightening her grip as they climbed the stairs.

"I'm ordering you to release me at once."

Tauriel let a small smirk appear on her face.

"You may be a princess, but I am not your subject," she reminded. It was amusing that she thought that would work on her.

They reached Sigrid's room, and as she promised, she placed her down on the bed. She quickly shut the door before sitting beside her, blocking off any chance of escape.

Sensing that she wasn't getting out of here by force of will, Sigrid tried another tactic.

"Tauriel," she whispered softly, desperately. "Please."

The red head sighed, reaching up to brush back a blond curl that fell into her eyes before gently tilting her chin up so she could look at her.

"Sigrid, what will happen to your people if you keep going on like this? You don't see the damage you are doing to yourself, keeping this relentless schedule, but I do. We've already lost far too much, don't make lose you as well."

Her words were spoken from the heart and finally Sigrid seemed to listen. With a defeated sigh, the human woman let her head rest against the elf's shoulder.

"I know," she admitted softly. "I know I can't keep this up. But I'm afraid if I stop, I will fail everyone."

Tauriel could understand that. She wrapped a comforting arm around her body and pulled her close. Sigrid gratefully snuggled closer.

"You won't," she promised, placing a gentle kiss on her head. Sigrid sighed, tension melting from her body.

"Thank you."

Tauriel smiled and simply continued to hold her. Slowly Sigrid drifted off to sleep. Tauriel held her through the entire night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	20. Fili/Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin was consumed by the gold of Erebor. All the gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fili/Thorin. Enjoy!

The gold called to him, a sirens song that he was helpless to ignore. Not that he wanted to. Such a sweet, sweet sound, he was more than willing to spend his days amongst the wealth of his kingdom. And how lucky he was that Smaug gathered it all in one place! That dragon had been a plague against his people, but at least had done something that benefited them. Thorin was grateful for at least that.

Carefully he walked amongst the large piles, with such casualness and ease that one would think he was taking a leisurely stroll through a garden. To Thorin it was just so. He stopped by a particularly large pile, taking a moment to admire its grand height and vastness. This was how Fili found him.

“Uncle,” he hesitantly called out, taking a few steps forward but maintaining a good distance between them. These days he couldn’t gauge his uncle’s temper. One wrong word could end with Fili suffering both physical and mental abuse. Best to keep space between them.

Thorin turned, reluctantly pulling his eyes from his treasure, to face his nephew.

“Ah, my sister-son,” he spoke quietly, more to himself than Fili.

“Yes, uncle. It’s me,” the blond dwarf cautiously replied, taking another step forward. “I’ve come to see if you will join us tonight for dinner. Bombur has made a particularly fine rabbit stew.”

It had been days since Thorin ventured out of the treasure vault. None could remember the last time he ate a decent meal. Fili hoped the hunger in his stomach would be enough to tempt him away.

“Hmm,” Thorin hummed, eyes pulled back to the treasure. He ignored Fili’s request, instead picking up a fine trinket from a nearby pile. “Come look at this,” he demanded, holding the necklace up to the light. Fili unwillingly got nearer, body tense in case Thorin turned violent and he needed to make a quick escape. It seemed the king was uninterested in a confrontation that night, though. The necklace in his hands proved far to enjoyable.

“Have you ever seen such craftsmanship? Such beauty?”

He held the necklace this way and that, letting the light bounce off it in different ways. The emeralds shined and the gold cast a warm glow on the two. Fili had to admit it was beautiful.

“I’ve never seen it’s equal,” he admitted.

That seemed to be the right thing to say, as Thorin turned to him with a pleased and proud smile.

“I wager there is none. Not in all of the world,” he happily confessed.

Fili gave a half-hearted smile. He was sick of gold and would rather see it all spent on things of real worth. Food, shelter, allies.

He opened his mouth to once again ask Thorin if he was going to eat that night, but stopped at the look on his uncle’s face. It was intrigued, calculating.

“Yet there are things that shine brighter,” he muttered, eyes intent on Fili. One hand reached up and gently caressed the hair on his head. Fili stood frozen with shock, unable to understand this change in his uncle. The feeling of his fingers carding through his hair was so foreign.

“Gold that has no equal,” Thorin spoke again, his voice husky with want that had Fili shivering. It was with shame that he privately admitted to himself that this new interaction with his uncle was not unwanted. For years he had desired Thorin in ways unbefitting of a nephew. Desires he shared with no one, not even Kili. He had dreamt of him touching him the way he was now, and more. He felt his eyes flutter shut and a moan bubble in his throat as Thorin’s grip tightened around his locks. The pinch of pain mingled with his pleasure and was intoxicating.

He heard the necklace slip from Thorin’s fingers and fall back into the pile, forgotten for now. His now free hand came up to grab the other side of his head, forcefully pulling him closer. So close that Fili could feel Thorin’s breath brushing across his face. He opened his eyes in a half-lidded gaze and felt his stomach pull with heat at the sight of Thorin’s icy blue eyes on his face. He was so intent, so focused on him that it was nearly overpowering. But Fili wanted it. He wanted it badly.

“All the gold of Erebor is mine by right,” Thorin muttered, giving Fili a small shake in emphasis of his words.

“Yes, uncle. It is all yours,” Fili breathlessly replied.

That seemed to please the dark haired dwarf, who now wore a feral grin on his face.

“Including you, sister-son.”

Fili shuddered violently at his words, desire flooding through his body. He had dreamt of those very words for years, never once thinking he would hear them aloud. Now that he realized that his dreams were a pale and sorry impression of the real thing, much to his horrified delight.

“I’m yours, uncle.”

That seemed to be what Thorin was waiting for and he released him. Fili stumbled back, breaths coming in harsh pants. Thorin turned back to examine his gold, forgetting his nephew for the time being.

Fili took his chance and escaped the treasury. His heart raced in his chest and he looked back only once at his uncle, still deep in the gold.

He wanted Thorin, so badly it hurt, but not this way. Never this way.

Suddenly Thorin glanced back at him, and that possessive look and feral grin came onto his face once more. Fili trembled at power behind that look, equally terrified and arouse. He may not want Thorin the way he was now, sick and consumed with greed, but it may not have a choice.

All the gold in Erebor belonged to him after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh! Getting to the last few weeks of the semester and work is piling up. I've literally had no free time this past week, focusing on studying, studying, and more studying. My breaks consist of me trying to write something so I don't miss a day. Summer can't come soon enough!
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	21. Bilbo/Dwalin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin came to the Shire seeking peace. He found it with Bilbo.

Dwalin, for all he was an intimidating looking dwarf, had quite a knack with handling children. Proof enough lay before him.

Bilbo watched the scene before him from a safe distance, an amused and fond smile on his lips. Dwalin was still dressed in his furs and leathers, refusing to adopt the Shire style of simple clothing despite it being years since he first arrived. All around him were little girls dressed in colorful dresses and pretty ribbons, each diligently weaving together flowers to form a crown. Dwalin himself had a pile of daisies in his lap and was steadily twisting them together, his massive and scarred paws quite adept with the delicate work. Occasionally one of the girls would hold up her work for Dwalin to look at, and without the warrior would admire and praise it as if it were a more precious thing than the Arkenstone. It was truly a heartwarming sight, and one Bilbo never thought he would see.

His smile fell as he remembered why Dwalin was in the Shire to begin with, and why he never expected to see him smile so easily as he was now.

The aftermath of the last battle had left a toll on all of them, the loss of Thorin, Fili, and Kili striking each of them deep in their soul. For Dwalin especially.

He had turned up on Bilbo’s door, nearly three years after he left Erebor, face grim and still full of grief. Bilbo had wasted no time in ushering him inside, taking his cloak and weapons before shepherding him into his kitchen for a warm meal. Slowly he got the story out of him.

Erebor wasn’t what he remembered, and the loss of his true king made staying within the Mountain unbearable. Dain was a good king, but he wasn’t _his_ king. He left in the hopes of finding a place where the memories weren’t so stinging. So he came to Bilbo.

The first year he spent in the Shire was like he wasn’t really there. He went through his days in a daze, helping out with the chores around Bag End and opening a smith shop in town, but his heart wasn’t truly in it. It wasn’t until Bilbo found him in his cellar, completely soused on Gaffer’s homebrew that he really started to live. He had raged and ranted in his drunken state, breaking quite a few of Bilbo’s plates and chairs, before breaking down in tears. Bilbo had held him through the night and well into the morning.

That was nearly ten years ago now and the dwarf before him wasn’t the same one that arrived on his door step in grief. He wasn’t even the one who showed up three years before that, untrusting and fierce. This dwarf was at peace, and that in turn gave Bilbo peace.

He approached the group of children, smiling softly as they enthusiastically greeted him and showed him their work.

“Very lovely. You all shall have the prettiest crowns for the spring festival,” he complimented. All the girls beamed with pride at this. Bilbo chuckled at the sight.

“It’s nearly sun down. Best you all run home or you’ll miss supper.”

The children reluctantly did as they were told, saying their goodbyes before running off to their homes. Bilbo stayed behind with Dwalin.

The great warrior held up his own crown.

“And what of mine, Master Hobbit? Fit enough for a festival?”

Bilbo laughed.

“I think it’s far too small for your head, Master Dwarf,” he teased lightly. Dwalin smiled and stood from his spot. He stepped forward so that he and Bilbo shared the same space.

“Aye, too small for a dwarf,” he agreed and lifted the crown to place amongst Bilbo’s curls. “But just right for a hobbit.”

Bilbo blushed at the gesture.

“I-I’m far too old for such things,” he blustered, though Dwalin could see his façade. He could tell that Bilbo was pleased with the gift, but wouldn’t admit it aloud.

“Shall we have supper,” he asked instead, offering the hobbit his hand to take. Bilbo sighed, a fond smile breaking through his lips.

“Supper sounds lovely.”

The two returned to Bag End, the flower crown still nestled atop Bilbo’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	22. Bofur/Nori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur didn't know how it started. Only that it did.

Bofur didn't know how it started. He and Nori had always been close, the two having mutual friends of seedy reputation and sharing questionable haunts for a decently priced ale and meal. When they both signed up for Thorin insane quest for gold and glory they had done so with grins of comradely and nothing more.

But then the nights on the road began to get cold, and slowly their bedrolls crept closer and closer together until one night there was no telling where Nori's ended and Bofur's began. Waking up with the red head their wrapped in his arms, smelling of musk, nature, and a spice distinctly Nori had been a surprising pleasant experience.

The kisses came shortly after. Between the the thrill of goblin town and the terror of Azog's pursuit came the affection. At first it had been kisses shared in relief at being alive, the high of escaping deaths cold fingers pushing them forward. But then they became soft comforts, exchanged in the dark of Mirkwood and later the coldness of the Man's village.

However, in all that time between the first night they shared their bedroll together and the last kiss exchanged, neither pushed it to where they wanted. Hands wandered, eyes became clouded with desire, but never did it go past.

Then the gold sickness consumed Thorin and war was at their doorstep.

Nori found him the night before the last string peace snapped.

"I don't want to die with regrets," he muttered between open mouthed kisses and harsh pants.

"Then don't."

It was consuming, intoxicating, but tinged with the bitterness of tragedy that was ready to fall on them. Neither knew if they would make it to the next night, but both prepared for the worst.

They shared their bedroll again that night, but neither slept. Morning dawned on them, cold and impersonal. They faced the coming day with hands held and together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	23. Fili/Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili doesn't remember a time before Kili.

He doesn't remember a life before Kili. Those short years where he was a lone child didn't exist in his mind. His mother told him he had been quieter, his uncle said he had been easier to control. To Fili, though, there was no time before Kili. The minute his brother was born was the minute his life also began.

It was his first clear memory, holding him while he sat on his father's lap. His small arms could hardly fit around his tiny body, and his father had to help him support him. He had been entranced by his brother, wide blue eyes focused on his sleeping face. He didn't know anything else. Just Kili.

The years passed and their bond grew stronger and stronger. One was never seen without the other. They became well known around the city for their mischievous ways and the chaos they left in their path. The boys paid no mind to the trouble they caused, simply laughing off the angered shouts of the adults as they continued on with their games. Nothing could touch them.

He had thought it would always be that way. Together and invincible. When Thorin told them of his quest to retake the Mountain they hadn't hesitated to join him. They laughed and joked, shoving each other in youthful eagerness at the chance for glory. Thorin indulged them, shaking his head and reminding them that this was a serious journey they were going to undertake. The boys had taken on an appropriate amount of somberness at this, but once they were alone they had reverted to their carefree ways.

To Fili it had been all he wanted.

Then the war came. And the blood and the pain.

He lay on the dirty field, surrounded by the stench of gore and forgetting what it felt like to be without pain.

He turned his head, eyes searching for his brother. Kili lay beside him, still and eyes closed. With the last of his strength Fili managed to crawl until he lay beside him. Shakily he wrapped his arms around his body. He was still warm.

With a sigh, he tucked Kili's head beneath his chin and held him close. It only made sense that if his life started with Kili in his arms it should end that way as well.

He shut his eyes and held on tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	24. Dwalin/Ori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The storm raged on outside and Dwalin watched his lover sleep.

Rain fell in a heavy torrent and lightening flashed across the sky, quickly followed by the heart stopping booms of thunder. It was as if nature dated anyone with the bravery to come outside and face their power head on. Dwalin, though brave, was not a fool. Besides, he much preferred staying warm, dry, and most importantly, huddled close to his bedmate.

Ori could sleep through the apocalypse if he wanted to. Thunderstorms like the one raging outside were no bother to him. His eyes remained closed and his face blissfully relaxed as he dreamed happy dreams, safe in Dwalin's arms. Dwalin couldn't find it in himself to be jealous of his lover's easy sleep. The storm gave him an opportunity to truly study Ori in a way he was rarely able to. Like mentioned before, Dwalin was no fool and was glad to take advantage of the situation.

The red head snored softly in his sleep. It wasn't a harsh, grating sound. In fact it was closer to a snuffle than a snore. The tiniest puffs of air escaped his nose as he slept, enough to produce the gentlest sound that Dwalin loved so dearly. In and out, in and out. He could listen to him forever.

Ori always blushed when Dwalin told him this, flustered by the raw affection from his boyfriend and adamantly denying everything he said. Ori loathed being called cute, in any sense of the word. Dwalin made sure to call him that at least twice a day, throughly enjoying the blush that covered his face and the indignant response that followed.

Sleep was also the only time Ori was ever really without his knits, barring showers of course. He hated the scratchy feeling of wool on his skin while he slept. He much preferred to wear something of Dwalin's. The shirts he chose were always far too big for him, one shoulder always bare as the collar slipped off one arm, revealing a tempting portion of skin. The same skin Dwalin would kiss lazily as they shared their bed, or mark with a passionate fervor in their more heated moments. Ori always looked particularly smug afterwards when he would catch sight of the bruise left behind. He never covered it with a scarf.

He felt Ori shift suddenly in his arms, his light snores cutting off as he slowly began to wake.

"What time is it," he sleepily asked, eyes closed and head turned vaguely in the direction he believed Dwalin to be.

"There are hours left in the storm. Go back to sleep," he softly encouraged, tightening his embrace. Ori put up no fuss and fell back into his dreams.

Dwalin stayed awake, listening to the storm rage on outside and hoping it would last an eternity. Just so he might stay here, in that moment, forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	25. Thorin/Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo wanted a dog. He just needed to convince Thorin that he, too, wanted a dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, a fluffy Thorin/Bilbo. Happy birthday, Pelopsa! I hope you enjoy your gift. :)

Bilbo had always wanted a dog. Growing up, his father had been allergic so they got a cat instead. Smeagol hated him and would always scratch up his arms whenever he tried to show him affection. He also made a horrible coughing sound when he was upset, which was always. He hadn't been too upset when he died.

Now Bilbo was a grown man, which meant that there wasn't much stopping him from living out his dreams of being a pet owner. Just Thorin. Thorin, who didn't mind animals but whom animals seemed to loath. Thorin who once rescued a cat from a tree and the cat repaid him by biting his nose and leaving scratches across his cheek. Thorin who visited the petting zoo with his nephews and the rams constantly butted straight into him until he left the pen. Thorin who always carried an umbrella, even on sunny days, because birds would constantly aim their droppings at him.

Bilbo would need a plan.

Thorin came home that to dinner set on the table. Not unusual. Bilbo loved to cook. He gave his boyfriend a kiss in greeting before sitting down.

"This looks fantastic," he praised, quickly digging into his plate.

"It tastes as good as it looks, I wager," Bilbo teased, taking a sip of his wine. Thorin nodded, enjoying the flavors mixing on his tongue.

"How was work?"

The dark haired man shrugged and swallowed.

"Stressful, though that's nothing new. Dain manages to make small problems turn into dragons. I'll probably be working late a few times this week."

Biblo frowned and made a disapproving noise.

"Stress isn't something to just brush off Thorin. I can already tell you haven't been sleeping well," Bilbo informed.

That had Thorin frowning. He actually had been having the best nights sleep these past few weeks. He had never felt more refreshed. He told Bilbo as much.

"Nope! Don't lie to me to make me feel better. You are tired and stressed and I won't have it."

Now Thorin's curiosity was piqued. Bilbo's tone was stubborn and tricky, which meant he wanted something and was trying to convince Thorin he wanted it as well. Hiding a smile, he played along.

"You're right. I'm feeling rather worn out. Do you have any ideas on how to fix that?"

Biblo smiled sneakily, thinking he was winning this game. Thorin had to cough to muffle his chuckle.

"Oh, some people do yoga, collect stamps, get a dog," he informed casually, as if he hadn't been thinking too hard on the matter. Thorin knew better.

"A dog?"

The effect was instantaneous. Bilbo's eyes took on a sparkle and his face split into a grin. Thorin could practically smell his eagerness.

"Oh, yes! There are numerous studies that show owning a dog is good for a person's health. Not only for the physical exercise, but emotionally and mentally as well."

"Is that so?"

The blond haired man nodded, curls bouncing.

"And did you know that when you pet a dog your brain's pleasure responses are activated? They says it's similar to a mother nursing her child."

Thorin made a small noise of interest, encouraging Bilbo to continue.

 _Not that he really needed it_ , he thought amusedly.

"And I was just reading an article the other day of a dog that actually alerted its family to a fire the house and got them all out to safety!"

He continued to babble on and on about the benefits of owning a dog, showing just how much research he had done to Thorin.

"Bilbo-"

"And since I work from home I can walk her so she gets enough exercise-"

"Bilbo-"

"Plus Fili and Kili would be over the moon! Just think of their faces-"

"Bil-"

"And do you know 1 in 4 shelter dogs is put down? Thorin, they're dying!"

"Bilbo!"

The smaller man shut his mouth and looked at his with sad, pleading eyes. Thorin sighed and smiled fondly at his lover. There was no saying no to him.

"I would love to get a dog."

Bilbo's sad look was replaced by one of pure joy, and he practically leaped across the table to envelop his boyfriend in a hug. Thorin chuckled, holding him close and pressing a kiss into his curls.

"Shall we go to the shelter tomorrow?"

Bilbo smiled sheepishly at him from beneath his bangs.

"Actually, she's already here."

Thorin raised an eyebrow as he watched his lover run off to the laundry room and opened the door. A short, golden corgi mix happily ran out, little stubby tail wagging and tongue falling from her mouth. Her eyes were bright and happy, matching Bilbo's perfectly.

"Thorin, meet Myrtle."

The bigger man sighed again, though he wasn't truly upset. He got down on the floor and offered his hand to the dog to sniff.

"Nice to meet you, Myrtle."

The dog gave him a happy lick before rolling onto her belly. Thorin obligingly pet it.

"She doesn't sleep in the bed," he warned Bilbo.

The short man nodded.

"Of course! She has her own bed ready."

Myrtle never slept in her bed. She liked it best squished between Thorin and Bilbo. Thorin found he didn't mind too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	26. Thorin/Sigrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the alliance to hold true, she must marry the king.

For the alliance to be recognized she must marry the king, not his heir. A half breed child could never rule the throne of Erebor and Dale would not settle for anything less than a king.

It breaks her heart, but she hides the pain behind a carefully constructed mask of stoicism. Like her father she is strong and takes what life throws at her. She agrees for the betterment of her people.

Fili can no longer look her in the eye. She can't either. A part of her is glad for their mutual cowardice. If they were braver people they would see the pain in each other's eyes and would think of doing something foolhardy in the name of honor and nobility, thus dooming their nations to turmoil and strife. The alliance rests of the idea that they are both too cowardly to put a stop to this.

Her father keeps offering her ways out. He tells her Dale can stand on its own (a lie), Thranduil has pledged his loyalty (the truth, but only just), the people aren't starving (another lie, spoken through clenched teeth). She is grateful for his efforts, but ever takes them. Bard knows she won't, but still he offers.

Tilda is her maid of honor, dressed in pretty lilac with flowers in her hair. She is dressed in the blue of his house and the gold of his name. She recites her vows with a strong, steady voice. Thorin doesn't comment or bring notice to her trembling hands, save for the barest hint of a squeeze from his own.

The wedding night is stiff and though he tries to be gentle there is pain and blood. They fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed. The next morning Thorin returns to his own quarters next door. Fili has moved to another part of the Mountain and they rarely ever see each other.

She goes about her duties as Queen with ease and grace, gaining much admiration from both kingdoms. When she returns home at night, alone until morning, her masks cracks. No one is around to see her cry and mourn for the life she has come to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	27. Thranduil/Bard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His hair fell in a waterfall of gold.

His hair fell in a waterfall of gold, soft and enticing. Bard couldn't help himself, his hand reaching out to card through the tresses. The feeling of the silky locks falling through his hand was addicting, so he did it. Again and again.

"Not that I don't appreciate the affection," Thranduil practically purred, shifting into a slightly more comfortable position against his husband. "But I do have work I need to get done."

Bard smirked, letting his hand continue what it was doing.

"I'm certainly not stopping you."

The two sat together on the couch, Thranduil more lounging across it. The blond man had a small pile of folders in his lap, the tiny, print text full of horribly complicated legal jargon that gave Bard a headache just looking at it. He had been trying to read the pages he was supposed to, but then his husband had to start his petting.

"Really, must you do that now," he asked with a huff, dropping the paper he had been trying to make sense of. He had read the same sentence five times thanks to Bard's attentions.

"I could stop. If it's really such a bother," the dark haired man teased, letting his hand gal away. Thranduil practically growled at the loss.

"Well, now you can't. My concentration is already shot so you might as well continue."

Bard chuckled and did as was told. Thranduil sighed happily, eyes closing in pleasure. Bard continued to pet him, enjoying the way his husband was relaxing against him. Carefully he added a bit of nail to his strokes. The other man reacted as expected. A soft hiss and moan, accompanied by him pressed further into his side. Bard grinned wickedly.

"Something the matter, love," he asked, tugging lightly at his hair. Again, Thranduil moaned.

"You know what you're doing," he accused, eyes opening to show that they were now dark with want.

The dark haired man simply hummed in response, continuing his ministrations. Stroke, stroke, tug, twist. Never in the same order and always moving, it was a delicate balance of pain and pleasure. A balance Bard played jump rope with, enjoying the sounds and reactions he was coaxing from his husband. One particularly sharp tug of his hair had the other man letting out a filthy moan that Bard felt through his chest and dive straight down to his groin. He replied with his own growl.

"Surely your work can wait til later," he asked, hand tightening against his scalp.

Thranduil panted and watched him through hooded eyes.

"Damn the work!"

They never made it to the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	28. Fili/Dwalin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was forbidden, their love. They loved anyway.

It's forbidden, this love they shared. A crown prince destined to rule a great kingdom and a scarred warrior honor bound to protect his king. Discovery would mean dire consequences for the both of them, but they try not to dwell on that. They focus on the love they feel.

"We could run," Fili whispers into his naked shoulder, pressing open mouth kisses there between his words. Dwalin shudders at the sensation of teeth lightly scraping against his skin.

"They would find us," he replies, large hand stroking his lover's muscular back.

It was true. They would last a week, at most, on the run before Thorin's men found them. He knew this because he was the one to train those men. Dwalin would be dragged back in shame, destined for exception. Fili would be forced into a marriage he didn't want, a prisoner for the rest of his life. They didn't stand a chance.

"Abdication then. Kili would make a good king, and I would be free to marry you."

He pulls the prince closer in his embrace and breaths in his unique scent. They have had this conversation a million times and would have it for a million more. Nothing would change though.

"Kili would make a fine monarch, but your uncle would never consent to our marriage."

He felt Fili's fingernails bite into his skin as the young man struggled to keep his composure. He ignored the pain, instead pressing his own kiss to his temple. Fili shuddered lightly and let his arms relax. Slowly the climbed his back and wrapped around his neck, where his head was buried.

"One day," he promised, words breathed hot against Dwalin's neck. "One day you and I will show the world our love without shame and force them to accept it. One day."

Dwalin sighed, nuzzling his head against the blond hair of his lover. It was a pretty dream, one he had no doubt Fili believed with all his heart. But Dwalin knew the reality. It could never be anything more than secret between the two of them. They came from two different castes in life and those chasms were not easily crossed. This relationship of theirs was doomed from the start and Dwalin knew it would only end in tragedy. Yet he couldn't find it in himself to regret any of it. And he knew he would not end it now, while they still had a chance. He loved him too much to let go.

"One day," he agreed, the lie tasting like ash on his tongue. But it seemed to soothe the young prince, he happily continued to press kisses against his salty skin.

 _Let him dream awhile longer_ , Dwalin thought as he returned the affections being bestowed on him. _He deserves that much._

They didn't speak of their future for the rest of the night, preferring to celebrate in the present they had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short stories as of late. Getting ready for finals week and it's killing me. :(
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	29. Thorin/Ori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori always knew his body was wrong, so he strived to make it right. Some things were harder to overcome though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read: I have very little experience in the transgender community. What I write here in based on online research and written with the most respectful intent. I understand that everyone's story is different. I support the trans community 100%, no ifs, ands, or buts. Your identity is valid and I respect that. Thank you!

Ori had always felt _wrong_ in his body. As a child the dresses his brother dressed him in didn’t feel right, the toys he was given for his birthday went unused, and most of all his name and the way people addressed him just didn’t fit. It wasn’t until he was older, and wiser to the world, why he felt that way. Discovering his true self had been like a breath of fresh air after being stuck under a woolen blanket for far too long. His brothers had accepted his true self with ease, transitioning seamlessly with his new life. Their little sister Tori was gone, but their little brother Ori remained and they were more than happy to help him along the way.

The first thing he did was to gut his wardrobe. Ever skirt and dress that hung in his closet was bagged and donated, replaced with comfortable sweaters and slacks, all tailored toward the male physique. Dori had surprised him one day with a binder and Nori embarrassed him by giving him a dark blue bag one night that held his first packer. He had squeaked and blushed violently, causing Nori to laugh uproariously, but when he was alone later in his bedroom and the embarrassment died down Ori couldn’t help but feel a warm feeling spread through his chest.

From that point life for him had been a new high. He cut his hair, started correcting people when they misgendered him, and began research into the next step of his transition. In between all this he found Thorin, a man that loved him for who he was and supported him in all things. Except, one thing remained that, without fail, brought Ori’s new found confidence plummeting down.

He still got a period.

When that horrible week came around every month it was like a harsh slap to his face. Despite all the steps he had taken to feel comfortable in his own body, this one little biological fluke was vivid proof that he was still _wrong_. He hated it.

His mood slumped into a depression that few could pull him out of.

Thorin did his best, though.

“Ori, are you home,” the older man asked, entering their shared apartment softly. He knew what day it was, had it marked on his calendar with a little red dot. The same four days every month.

Ori didn’t answer him, but Thorin knew he was here. His shoes were neatly stacked next to the door and his book bag was hanging on its assigned hook.

Thorin put his own stuff away before venturing further into the house. He walked to the bedroom and opened the door. Sure enough there was his boyfriend, curled on his side with a hot water bottle, watching the blank while in front of him.

Thorin sighed and entered the room. He fit himself on the bed so that he was spooning the smaller man from behind, pulling him close so they were flush together.

“This isn’t really you, Ori,” he whispered gently into his ear before pressing a kiss to his temple. “You are male and no bleeding will change that.”

Ori shifted against him, sniffling slightly. Thorin felt his heart break at this. He hated when Ori cried, especially during times like this. He wanted nothing more than to ease his boyfriends pain.

“Why can’t it stop,” Ori whispered brokenly, still looking at the wall ahead of him. Thorin knew it was because he didn’t want him to see him cry.

“It will,” he promised. “One day. Once you begin hormone therapy it will stop within a few months. But that doesn’t make you any less of a man now.”

Ori continued to quietly cry and Thorin continued to hold him, offering him the silent comfort that he could. The dark haired man knew that Ori knew he spoke the truth, but knowing the truth and accepting it are two very different things. It would take time Ori to fully accept what he was saying. Thorin was patient, however. For Ori, he would wait.

“Thank you,” he heard the little red haired man softly say between his sniffles. Thorin squeezed him gently in reply. He didn’t need to say anything. Ori knew he was there, ready to support him in any way he needed.

They stayed in bed for the rest of the night and Ori’s cries eventually stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	30. Tilda/Bofur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur was old, but Tilda didn't mind.

He didn’t know what he did to deserve her. She was wonderful, bright, and young with a smile that lit up the room and a temper that had him swooning when invoked. She made him feel like he was just young man ready to take on the world and he was ever grateful for that.

“What are you thinking about,” she asked him, a teasing smile on her face. Bofur chuckled and offered her his hand. Tilda took it and allowed herself to be pulled down into his lap. She snuggled contently into his side, still waiting for an answer. Bofur obliged.

“Just how luck I am that I have you,” he confessed, his mustache twitching with his smile. She laughed brightly at his answer, reaching one hand up to pat his cheek.

“You sound so old when you say things like that.”

Bofur joined her laughter.

“I am old, though. Don’t you see my gray hair?”

It was true. Bofur wasn’t a young man anymore, though he wasn’t ancient by any means. His hair was going gray and his bones ached when it rained. Tilda though, she was young and vibrant. Just a woman of twenty-three, she could dance until the sun rose in the new morning and further still. At first her age had been a cause for concern. Fifteen years wasn’t an easy bridge to gap. She was stubborn though, breaking past his reservations and taking what she wanted with a brashness that only the youth could manage. Bofur could only chuckle and let himself be taken along for the ride. He had yet to regret it.

“I found a gray hair myself. Are you calling me old,” she demanded, pouting up at him. He smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Tilda smiled victoriously, laying her head against his shoulder.

“If I have gray hair and am not considered old, then you aren’t either.”

“But I have more gray hair than you. That changes things a bit.”

He saw her start to pout from his peripheral vision and chuckled. She was so expressive, seeing no shame is wearing her emotions for the world to see. He loved that about her.

“It’s not a bad thing though,” he continued his thought. “I may be too old to dance with you all night, but that means I get the privilege of watching you instead.”

Tilda smiled softly, closing her eyes as she continued to nestle close to her love.

“And being old means we can save money when we go out by getting the senior discount!”

The young woman laughed brightly at that, throwing her head back in glee.

“We can use the money saved to go on a proper vacation.”

Bofur nodded.

“Somewhere warm and sunny. So I can see you in a bikini.”

Tilda blushed but grinned widely.

“And you’ll wear socks with your sandals, because that’s what old men wear to the beach.”

Bofur nodded sagely at that.

“Naturally.”

The laughed and joked about all the wonderful things they could do as a young-old couple for hours until the sun set. Not once did either think this conversation should be anything but humorous. They were quite content being young and old together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


End file.
